Self-produced and with only Primus’s Brain to accompany him on drums, Buckethead’s Colma has been called Experimental to Instrumental to New Age. Often mystified for wearing a KFC bucket on his head, an undeniable question mark hangs over his head. People often judge on appearances and Buckethead loses as much from this as he gains. People see it as a gimmick and a novelty, overlooking his creativity, audacity and remarkable talents as a guitar player, bringing together music from different arenas and making something tangible from it. People know him only for the horror-movie themes and crunching riffs, missing perhaps the most important thing of all.
That underneath the mask lies a person like any other. Buckethead has substantiated split-personas during interviews, that of the bemasked sorcerer, and that of his alter ego, Brian Carroll. Carroll possesses a gift to write and play music that is intensely personal and emotionally affecting, and it is on Colma that Carroll can express himself most clearly, albeit under a thin veil.
The music itself is simple and sparse in layout, but sonically full and tempting to the other senses, so heavy is its emotional burden that you could reach out and touch it, or taste it on your lips like salty kisses. There is only a simple and constant drum beat in the background – unelaborated but rhythmically substantial – and an accompanying bassline beneath that. The album is predominantly played on an acoustic or electro-acoustic guitar, with overdubs here and there, but there isn’t much more beyond this (in stark contrast with some of Buckethead’s techno-fest efforts). Each song has its own melody and atmosphere. Songs like Whitewash and Ghost are distant and cold, while Machete and the soaring Big Sur Moon provide emotional outlets, wordless yet dripping with lyricism, bittersweet in flavour. There are upbeat moments, like the placid calm of Hills of Eternity or the simplicity of Wishing Well, and there are deeply private moments on For Mom and Watching The Boats With My Dad.
A native of California (growing up in Huntington Beach and Claremont), it is clear that his album reflects Buckethead’s personal feelings regarding a side of him that many thought they would never see. The gratitude to his parent and family s is clear in the liner notes and the tenderness of songs like For Mom. The tie he feels to where he was born, raised and now lives is also palpable. Now living in the Bay Area around Berkeley and San Francisco, there are countless references to the landscape; Colma is the name of a town in the North Bay known for having more graves than inhabitants, and the reference to the epic Monterey coast down Carmel is clear on Big Sur Moon. Even without referring to the landscape, tracks like Hills of Eternity easily recall rolling hills on the way to the East Bay on route 101, or the splendour of Point Reyes. This all could be awfully incomprehensible, but Buckethead’s genius lies in making all of this universal so anyone could understand or appreciate it. Although not as structurally or harmonically rich as anything by a great composer, its simplicity makes it all the more affecting; pleasant enough to dip into but capable of wrenching feeling from all but the coldest of hearts.
10/10
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