With his third solo album, “Vestiges and Claws,” out Feb. 17, José González sings like a ghost who is haunting himself. The first strains of the album are as familiar as going home. The autumnal chimes and soft-spoken yearning will comfort listeners looking for the same achingly cold lyrics paired with his crackling ember voice that set González apart in his previous albums, “Veneer” (2003) and “In Our Nature” (2007). What listeners may not find is the artist finding new territory, sticking instead to a tried-and-true formula that is exquisite, but, given the time between his previous album and this one, a little underwhelming.
First leaking out just a few somber guitar chords, which are soon paired with González’s haunting voice, the opening song feels like it is emanating from some place secluded and lonely. “With the Ink of a Ghost” sounds like a specter of González himself; his voice lilts in his trademark voice and seems to come from another world.
“Let it Carry You” enters with a snapping melody; a deeper congo drum livens up the laggard tempo of the first track. The song is easy and peaceful; it brings a springtime melody to brighten up the days of an eternal winter -- the vision of flowers budding after hibernation. The pleasant hymn features lyrics like “Seeing the migrant birds pass by / taking off to warmer skies / hear them singing out their songs / tune in, realize nothing’s wrong.” Veering nearer to Jack Johnson than other contemporaries like Fleet Foxes, the track is sweet, but it carries weight in lines like, “Let it carry you away / and dance off into the fall / of things near / of things gone.”
On “The Forest,” González sings of barren landscapes and empty spaces. The space between verses mirrors this sense of isolation, with each line feeling more and more displaced than the rest as a violin bleeds out a somber melody and an acoustic guitar rounds out the sound. “Why didn’t I see / the forest on fire, behind the trees?”A pan flute enters, feeling almost a touch too whimsical for a song of such gravity. Since González's tracks are known for a swash of folk overtones, the occasional woodsy, fairytale instrumentality isn't exactly unexpected, just disappointing.
“Leaf Off / The Cave” is where González starts to falter. Singing “May the life lead you out” ad nauseum, González’ work on the track is lazy; both his lethargic guitar work and the sheer immutability of his lyrics leave much to be desired. It’s a campfire acoustic cover of himself.
“Every Age” is grandfatherly in its suppositions. “Build a place where we all can belong.” Thanks, Mr. Rogers. How does the world get there? González doesn’t really offer any answers. It isn’t necessary that he deliver them, but one would assume that asking, “How low are you willing to go before you reach all your selfish goals?” eight years ago on “How Low,” off of “In Our Nature” would have given him enough time to ponder some answers to his questions.
“Vissel,” an instrumental piece, is quiet and balanced, with a steadiness that feels like it has finally reached a place of solidity. It is here that González might hit something worth sticking around for. “Afterglow” features the same slow, provocative tambourine and soft-spoken hymnal chorals of hits like “Heartbeats” (2003).
González has the musicality and the prowess to take listeners to a haunted, wild place with this work. Yet the tracks on “Vestiges and Claws” feel supine; they move along a flat plain in the desert, lonely and looking for no one and nothing to take them back to civilization. While González’s rhythms are untamed, the album feels simple and easy. While “Veneer” and “In Our Nature” placed González’ music in a solitary Thoreauvian cabin in the woods, it seems as though he never left that place. With eight years since his last work, one has to wonder if this artist is merely enjoying the ride, and not challenging himself or his listeners to dig deeper and to answer the questions he woefully asks over and over on track after track.
