Cut Worms – Transmitter (Jagjaguwar) (13th Floor Album Review)
Transmitter is Cut Worms’, aka Max Clarke, fifth foray into the recordsphere that includes three long players – Hollow Ground (2018), Nobody Lives Here Anymore (2020), and a self-titled album in 2023, with debut EP, Alien Sunset, released in 2017.
Those earlier releases conjoured a sound from a bygone America: ‘60s folk pop, the Hollies, the Beach Boys (less the harmonies) and many others, all naive by today’s standards, and one that fitted the lo-fi, home-recorded, almost nostalgic vibe that Clarke practiced.
For Transmitter, Clarke took up an offer from Wilco cornerstone Jeff Tweedy to visit his Loft Studios in Chicago to lay down some tracks, made while Cut Worms were supporting during a tour in the summer of ‘24.
Tweedy’s contribution is all over Transmitter with credits for production and guitars, and the result is a more mature collection of songs than Clarke’s earlier forays and a swing toward the Alt. Country feel of Wilco.
Clarke’s music shines through, however, with his iconoclastic observations coursing through the lyrics. He is influenced by poetry (the name Cut Worms comes from 18th century poet William Blake – The cut worm forgives the plow) and credits Carl Sagan’s novel Contact for the ideas behind the album.
“Earth receives communication from a distant star system, and it turns out to be an old TV broadcast sent back with an encrypted message,” Clarke is quoted on the Jagjaguwar website. “I liked the idea that songs could work the same way: like beams of light carrying a message you just have to tune in to feel.”
The opener, Worlds Unknown, is a bright, jaunty and hopeful sounding love song – From around the corner of my street Arising this vision of you… And you turned back With a look that Made my heart pound ‘til it broke… oh-oh no, I could see You looking right through me.
Worlds Unknown sets the tone for the album – the fragility of existence, filled with hope, but with anxiety that it could all turn to shit.
Clarke’s imagery is peculiar, unique and fitting. Evil Twin opens with – Like a hammer falling down on a lifetime of love, Like the teeth chewing on a styrofoam cup.
Tweedy fills the spaces where awkwardness might lurk with layers of guitar, Clarke sings – From the east to the west, Morning rise, evening rest, And the day is gone.
It’s almost a perfect blend of winsome wordplay and glittering guitar. You know you should feel bad about the storyline, but you kinda feel good about the music.
“Amid all the darkness and existential dread, the human spirit’s prevailing conviction is that despite everything, somehow it will all work out, because what other choice is there?” Clarke is again quoted on his record label’s blurb.
Clarke paints wonderful pictures with his words. Vivid portrayals that spark the imagination.
Drinking straight from an hourglass, In the shadow of an old underpass – he’s singing on Walk in an Absent Mind, a song about stagnation and repetition – Save your premonitions, It’s never what you think…
In Windows on the World – In the plate glass, my reflection, Seeing something is missing. And I feel like I’m stuck on the inside of a television. It’s a sad and beautiful world – On a clear day you can see almost forever.
Looking on as the sun falls down on the lawn, rolls around the grass then down to the palms – It’s an exquisite world Clarke creates in Don’t Look Down, another plea for a hopeful future, but filled with apprehension and doubt.
Tweedy’s work never overshadows Clarke’s voice, but it does make for an absorbing backdrop of complexity, rhythm and style that elevates this album to one of real standing.
The closing track, Dream, Clarke is alone with a piano (and some harmony) musing on the value and meaning of dreams, but tinged with possibility that they are, in the end, just indulgent flirtations – What if I can’t find my way back home to you, What did I expect, I guess I always knew. Something I was hiding from myself. Wish that I could show you how it fell…
Clarke and Tweedy have created a rich and appealing collection off 10 songs that explore the nature and ambiguity of feeling, love, belonging and hope woven through familiar-sounding but expertly crafted music that sits comfortably in the world of alternative country.
And while truth and meaning can, at times, be hard to discover, Clarke recommends caution when putting the message out. “Whatever you put out into the world will find resonance,” he’s quoted again. “Everyone is emitting signals and vibrations, so be mindful of what you’re sending.”
Clarke’s signals and vibrations are thoughtful and considered. Tune in, stay a while, and be exposed to his world. It might reveal something that may not be entirely comfortable, but it will definitely be interesting.
Alex Robertson
Transmitter is out today on Jagjaguwar Records
