Grab that guitar. Hop on that train to nowhere. Light that campfire. Tell those stories. Tell the stories of the love you once lost, the woman that left you alone in that long forgotten town. Whisper to the children, their eyes alight with eager interest, they’re hanging on your lips, entranced by the sound of your songs. Grab that guitar. Get your friends. Gather round. It’s time for CAAMP.
CAAMP by CAAMP, independently released in 2016, sounds like Mumford and Sons’ less annoying cousin snuck into their recording studio with his high school buddies. It sounds like denim jackets, like freshly brewed coffee, like a cold but light beer, oddly manly in an almost tender way. Country meets folk meets indie meets the sweet scent of 21st century hipsterism. I can see them playing in the corner of my favourite coffee shop. I can see them playing on stage at your local indie festival. I can see them busking in the streets. I can see them playing to a crowd of thousands in Maddison Square Garden. It’s the universal white, male indie folk we have seen rise to fame in the last ten years.
All the Debts I Owe conveys its lyrical message with great musical simplicity, a simple strummed guitar paired with a the almost piano-like sharpness of a banjo. The usually pretentious huskiness of folk singer voices actually works for once, adding charm instead of ego, conveying familiarity instead of stylistic arrogance. You know you’re listening to indie folk when the bass drum isn’t used for percussive purposes but as a bass line substitute. Or you can give that part to the piano as on So Long, Honey, a beautifully simple ballad that sings of waiting and inevitable return. Husky voice on top of husky voice, a fuzzy carpet of men singing of loss and love, of hope and hopelessness, of the pasts the yearn for and of the futures they fear.
The sad meets the upbeat, all tied together in their simplicity and intricacy. Iffy is predictable in that way, musically unsurprising but nevertheless melodically capturing. With its more traditional folk sound, its more strumming-heavy rhythms and subtle sense of melancholy in its harmonic progression, it feels like a farewell song. Or you look at the opposite end of the record’s musical spectrum to find John Henry, a blues number with processed vocals and the only collaborative effort featuring singer Jesse Henry. Syncopated rhythms meet traditional blues cries, making the song more performative, more animated than any other track on the record. If All the Debts I Owe and Vagabond can be played around the campfire with only a group of friends, John Henry requires at least the local bar guests to listen.
As a last surprise, CAAMP decide to get out the snare for I Keep Going, the album’s last track. Suddenly there is a percussive force from the very first bar, a percussive force that does not just stem from the rhythmic strumming of a guitar. The simplicity in this musical surprise speaks of the sonic cohesiveness on the record, always true to the basics. Apart from the beautifully bright brass section on Ohio, CAAMP stay true to the classical folk instrumentation, sticking to the basics. This is what makes their sound so versatile: this is music that can be danced to, music that can be played in the background of a bar, while you’re studying, or with you singing along to it.
CAAMP makes me feel warm when I listen to it. It makes me think of my friends, the times of making music with them, the moments of dancing in the rain without thinking about the inevitable cold you will contract from this moment of carefree stupidity. CAAMP makes the think of the countless campfires I’ve sat around, the crispness of a summer night, the cozy feeling of snuggling up in blankets and sharing funny stories. CAAMP makes me think of my favourite café, of drinking cider with friends, of the simple beauty of a warm summer evening.
The Dad Anthology 