Look Again

On stage, St. Anthony Mann takes the shape of a huddled four-piece. Seated in three chairs and a drum throne, the musicians attend to the strings in their hands and pedals at their feet. As a group, their sound is expansive—the effort to keep the musical expanse midair looks more meditative than theatrical. Adam is ballcapped and seen singing in profile. The rhythm section sets the table, friendly and relaxed, while the guitarists loop, condense, expand, and contort their down-tuned, bell-clear guitar tones. The songs often end with a hazy distortion followed by a modest “thanks” directed toward the crowd. Seen from a corner seat, late at night, you know, at a grimy pub, Mann appears like a mirage cousin to a terrific midwestern bar band.

Following a season of sets, a festival appearance, and a trip to France, St. Anthony Mann took a year off from performing. LISSI, their last full-length effort, had been fully presented and what followed was the germination of Look Again. Each song on the new LP began as a guitar part with a vocal. These pieces were then interpreted by the Mann mainstays, Ben McKeown (drums, synth, keys), Matt Tessier (bass, percussion), and DJ LaFontsee (guitar, percussion). Songs change color under the influence of the band. “Lesson n.7” is defined by its ambient setting. During the opening passage, you hear Matt and Ben talking their way through the form. The moment offers a breath, and the effect of a song coming into focus—almost accidentally. Once a folk song, “Look Again” becomes anthemic and nocturnal, adorned in padded synthesis repurposed from a praise band. “Ritual Forward” becomes panoramic and driving, held together by extensive percussion. 

Further additions to the record from outside collaborators continue to shape the sound of the project. Look Again is indebted to defining contributions from outside artists.  “Make Believe” is transfigured by Doug Justice’s guitar manipulations. His pop-friendly stabs turn the introspective kernel of a tune into the jounciest moment on the whole project. The piece was further amended by JT Bates’ percussive guidance and Mike Noyce’s sampling. “Aimee, I” wouldn’t be the same without Zack Warpinski’s pedal steel guitar. Sarah Elstran’s beautiful harmonizing at the height of “Lesson n.7”, while a short contribution, pushes up the ceiling height of the whole record. Clifton Nesseth’s strings set an ornate frame as a loping, rhythmic cloud migrates over the denouement to “Ritual Forward''.  Nat Harvie’s take on mixing Look Again, which came late in the project, adds yet another lens—accentuating and polishing the songs in their own particular way, to steer the whole production into a new light. It took friendships and collaborations, the fruits of all the years behind the Mann project, to produce an album that sounds the way Look Again sounds.

Adam cites Wittgenstein and Carl Jung as thematic inspiration for the album. Sitting across from me at the table, he explained his doubts about the foundations of language, his skepticism towards our understanding of things, and his uncertainty about what we can remember. It is possible to worry that in entertaining complete subjectivity, Look Again risks vanishing altogether. Mercifully, these lofty themes are voiced with concrete precision and heart throughout. Adam’s voice sounds like an upward-slanting hum that is at once confessional and sympathetic to a character off-screen. His words are impressionistic—landscape-leaning, and personable. 

“I held my head low

evergreen surrounding

In a dusty glow”

Here, briefly, is what I love about Look Again. Much of the album sounds like these words. Widescreen, thoughtful, and ruminating. The impression of the lyrical content is deepened by Adam’s characteristic phrasing. 

“Dancing on some familiar tide

A living memory between the painter’s eye”

This line, at the end of “Rough Virtue” offers a poignant image, sung quietly during a beautiful and dramatic orchestrational moment. Its resonance is clear and I’ll never fully know what Adam was thinking when he wrote it. Look Again asks spacious questions and there is enough room for the listener to enjoy the asking. 

Look Again is played in an imagined room—a renovated space, marked by revisions and re-revisions, months’ worth of glances. The record ends with a personal favorite, “Major”. I loved this song long before I knew what it was. It served as a closer for Mann sets for a couple of the shows that I attended. An ascending swell accompanies another memorable melody. “It’s good to see you in the gold” is something I have often hummed to myself. At the time, I didn’t know the words. With Look Again, St. Anthony Mann offers a rewarding second listen after the first, and a third after the second. 

03.04.2024

Sam Walker

https://halfandhalfbysam.substack.com/