Tim Heidecker – ‘Slipping Away’ album review: ordinary tales from an extraordinary world
THE SKINNY: Contentment is an underrated human condition. To be simply pleased amid an easy bounty of pleasantries is the achievable goal of life. You realise this more as you get older, and all the guidebooks on existence that you never read have left you searching for the unobtainable, and the thrill of the skydive you never took proved unsustainable. Contentment, in this chaotic world, is arguably far sweeter than revered euphoria because its entropy is lower. It’s more manageable. This is where Tim Heidecker’s new folk album, Slipping Away, happily picnics.
These are not great big songs with giant messages—they are little Randy Newman-like vignettes of an ordinary existence in an extraordinary world. The music, likewise, doesn’t reinvent the wheel or throw in daft dissonance to showcase an orchestrated effort at ‘originality’, it just does what the songs dictate. And the songs themselves dictate a casual, everyday happiness. In presenting these dignified reasons to be cheerful without irony, the record, by virtue of the fact that so few people have actually thought to pleasingly offer up quotidian pleasantries in this age of life dysmorphia, are, actually, stirringly original.
In a country-twanged heartland rock style, superbly performed by Heidecker and his aptly named Very Good Band, Slipping Away creates comfort out of a coming apocalypse. By pairing these two wild polarities, which exist largely side by side in today’s world of damning news, perennial crises, utopian leaps forward, and barely regarded opulence, the record hits upon something important in its own casual way. It proves that ignorance isn’t bliss, but bliss doesn’t have to be ignorant. Big breaks slip by our protagonist, he’s down on his luck, and streets worryingly empty, but for the most part, it is still an album to find peace in.
This is an everyday struggle nearly everyone who will listen to this record faces: not so much, ‘Am I happy?’ but more so, ‘Should I be happy?’ Should I be content with my lot or seeking more? Should I be devouring Slow Horses when there are wars to learn about? Those are the fevered thoughts of our age that the album deftly deals with. So, to use the horrid parlance of our times, Slipping Away is a record that will make many people ‘feel seen’. In sharing that with nothing more than sweet, smooth riffs and earnest lyrics that offer just a nod to his comedy past, Heidecker offers comfort without shying away from discomfort—like a pint with pals at a funeral, he provides sweet contentment in disquieting times. Why not.
For fans of: Having a quasi-religious epiphany from the perfect cup of tea and wondering if there is truly a better meal out there than Old El Paso fajitas.
A concluding comment from Casey Tatum: “Haunting yet touching, like watching a dog with no legs sleep, dreaming of catching squirrels—a paragon that all great songwriters much strive for.”
Release Date: October 18th | Producer: Tim Heidecker and Ian Doerr | Label: Bloodshot Records
‘Well’s Running Dry’: As a rule of thumb, I’ve always thought the theme of writing about writer’s block is a little lazy, like when a reviewer says, ‘This is a tricky album to review’. But I like Heidecker and this latest album so I’ll let him off. Letting him off in itself is either lazy or simply how we consume art in an identitarian world—such tortured thought typifies the subtle depth of the record, making it the perfectly imperfect start. [3.5/5]
‘Trippin’ (Slippin’)’: A very simple song about times going well. The fact that an upbeat cabaletta coda is almost forgotten about before erupting as an afterthought is a clever piece of postmodern production, exemplifying the storytelling nuance on display. [4.5/5]
‘Like I Do’: The acoustic strumming in the opening of this decidedly Randy Newman-inspired tune reveals the dainty folk heart of this record. Even in this tale of head-over-heels courtship, there is a subtle hint at the protagonist’s fallibility. [4/5]
‘Dad of the Year’: The signature tune of the album. A humble tale not of disappointment but rather of life reconfiguration. Unhappy ‘Dairy of a CEO’ types might think of the song as a sorry acceptance of failure; happier, healthier, more humourous folks will celebrate it as a reconciliation of allowing yourself to be content with what you’ve got (which is probably quite a lot). [5/5]
‘Bottom of the 8th’: A chirping little bluegrass adjacent melody delves into father-daughter-ballgame philosophy as Heidecker makes quirky everyday observations about sweating mascots and the innocence of youth. [4.5/5]
‘Something Somewhere’: Life is made of peaks and troughs. They’re an ingrained equilibrium that every sage, guru or demigod tries to deny but are bellied by reality. Heidecker sits on the precipice of an approaching downfall with this knowingly mournful ballad. [4/5]
‘Bow and Arrows’: Kitsch instrumentation creates a claustrophobic and oddly upbeat world reminiscent of a nightmarish incarnation of the 1960s Merseybeat sound as a stark tale of hunger and crumbling streets slides by ceaselessly. [3/5]
‘Hey, Would You Call My Mom for Me’: The title alone is oddly heartbreaking, and the song follows suit. Things have gone awry as a weepy slide guitar rubs the salt in. [4.5/5]
‘I Went Into Town’: An eerie look at the desolation the news keeps piping us. Tales of empty towns and disappeared humanity have always cropped up in culture, but this cut feels particularly crushing. [4/5]
‘Bells Are Ringing’: Ambient swells create an affecting bed for this harrowed but gentle finale. There is a distinct tightness to the band and a twinkle of finding joy even in sad art throughout. A Warren Zevon-esque parting handshake. [4/5]
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