Damien Jurado: Rehearsals For Departure

Why is the saddest music so often the most uplifting Damien Jurado's winsome songs are full of broken relationships, loved ones moving to distant places, and sad slices of life, often augmented by little more than a gently plucked acoustic guitar. But, like the best works of everyone from Low to Elliott Smith to Aden, the results transcend sadness, with a cleansing beauty that never even threatens to bring you down. Jurado's greatest gift as a singer is his willingness to lay himself bare: His unselfconscious vocals never pose or sneer, and he's not afraid to strain beyond his limited range, which ultimately renders his vocals unmistakable. Jurado's tenure in various Seattle punk bands means that even his softest songs retain an edge, but he's not really the "urban folk singer" he claims to be. Instead, he's just a marvelous pop singer and musical documentarian, as evidenced by the new Rehearsals For Departure, which builds upon the considerable promise of his 1997 debut, Waters Ave S. Opening with a handful of soft, spare acoustic tracks ("Ohio," "Tragedy," "Curbside"), Rehearsals soon stretches out into more electric material, and while its second half is uneven compared to the first, the album never loses its intimacy, immediacy, or impeccable storytelling. Even at its most rocking moments, it's sad, and even at its most somber, it never makes you share in its misery.