Over the past few years WOODEN WAND (aka James Toth) and a revolving cast of associates called the Vanishing Voice have put out about a dozen releases, each filled with loose amalgams of folk, blues, and electronic noise that sound like the band’s lost somewhere between a catatonic trance and a psychedelic haze. It’s maddeningly inconsistent music that’s probably more fun to play than listen to–the songs don’t progress so much as wobble forward, and Toth’s more fascinated with rickety sounds than focused songcraft. But that slovenliness has earned the group a following among those freak-folk fans who can’t tell the difference between beauty and bullshit. On last year’s Buck Dharma (5 Rue Christine), the group layers analog-synth farts and meandering electric guitar lines over clattery bells, rattles, and what sound like chains being dragged around. Occasionally Toth or one of his cohorts sings in a forlorn moan, adding to the dark, bummed-out vibe–and even more rarely something coherent happens, like “I Am the One I Am & He Is the Caretaker of My Heart,” which adds a throbbing groove to a pseudo mountain song. Toth fares better on his recent Dylan-esque solo album, Harem of the Sundrum & the Witness Figg (Soft Abuse), where his guitar and vocals glide across oil slicks of reverb. His bluesy melodies are sometimes surprisingly sweet, and overall the album’s more streamlined than anything else I’ve heard from him. This set’s billed as Wooden Wand & Friends, though, so tonight he might be rambling. –Peter Margasak
