Album Review: The Parson Red Heads - Yearling

There are unexpected places in the world that just seem to be breeding grounds for musical talent, where the cultural and environmental constituents were due to be just right when the Big Bang popped us into being. Our native Perth, for example. Portland, Oregon is another, and it now gives us country-folk four-piece The Parson Red Heads. Following up their 2007 debut in the spirit of indie folksters Fleet Foxes and Blitzen Trapper, Yearling is a mature and endearing album that treats optimistic sentiment flush with country embellishments, all used with humble restraint.

One might baulk at Yearling's 17 tracks over 75 minutes (including Australian bonus tracks) but not a second is wasted. Behind each lurks a sense of sincerity, a raw and honest sound bereft of affectation. Opener, Burning Up The Sky, introduces us to vocalist Evan Way's Tom Petty/Bob Dylan-like croon, harmonised ever so dulcetly by wife Brette. They know how to shape pretty melodies that seep into the skin, like on the slide guitar-filled Time Is Running Out and Banking On The Sun. The textures are gently sparse, with dynamic builds, twangy guitar bursts, and harmonica and organ flourishes riding an even pace throughout most of the album. Things pick up with rollicking Americana guitar strums and laidback drums on Kids Hanging Out and Long Way Back, closing with the atmospheric Here It Comes Again.

There's much to love about Yearling; it's mature, poignant country made accessible by a youthful group of folksters, and yet stands tall as simply a well-crafted, thoughtful and multi-dimensional album with divine harmonies and warm, optimistic storytelling. Not bad at all for a bunch of red heads.