Fingerprints Music

Reviews:

Matt Pond appears to be the kind of guy who clutches a pint of draft beer in onehand and keeps the other resting atop a box of tissues, waiting to drink, drink,drink his troubles away. Some of Elliott Smith’s more elaborate exercisesin chamber pop spring to mind immediately as an obvious point of reference forThe Green Fury, and you’d be hard pressed not to identify strainsof Robert Smith’s mournful wail in Matt Pond’s voice during the album’smore plaintive moments. But the essence of Pond’s existential anguish goesback quite a bit further than that; all hyperbole aside, Pond’s gorgeouscompositions possess a kind of emotional authority that hasn’t been seensince Jackson Browne’s heyday, due mostly to the singer/songwriter’scurious compulsion to strip himself as naked as possible.

This search to uncover deeper truths about human nature is precisely what pushesPond to greater heights on his latest full-length. And in stark contrast to pastefforts, Pond’s ability to bring a song to full term with perfectly meteredinstrumentation has finally caught up with his talent for spinning a complex narrative.The addition of a solidified lineup—complete with a three-piece string section—certainlyhelps, and you can hear it as the vibraphone and cellos sweep in on “Neighbor’sNew Yard” and “It Becomes Night.” But what ultimately sets TheGreen Fury apart from 2000’s equally ornate Measure is mere contrast:Pond alternates effortlessly between riding the highs and lows, allowing hopeand hopelessness to seep through the cracks and achieve some kind of brilliant,beautiful common ground.