And insignificance is exactly what you get here. Not only is this album effectively Jim O'Rourke's 'pop' album - 'insignificant' by the often lofty expectations of his avant-guard audience - but the title also announces his intention for you to attribute not one ounce of significance to a word he says throughout. It's also the third of O'Rourke's albums to be named after a film by cult British film director, Nic Roeg - can't wait for 'Don't Look Now' eh?
Gladly, the album doesn't sound at all as you might expect from this painfully contrived introduction. Rather, it's something of an effortlessly charming, if knowing, stroll through a set of songs that, in places, wouldn't sound out of place on Lou Reed and David Bowie's ode to artifice 'Transformer' and, in others, could be pealed from the songbook of an imagined bourbon-guzzling Southern rock band.
'Insignificance' is an album fraught with contradictions: tightly funky guitars sit alongside angelic piano and crunching 70s rock riffs shoulder belligerently up to honeyed pop harmonies. These are fascinating contrasts glued together with a binding harmonic honesty.
Despite the cold contrivance of the lyrics, 'Insignificance' exudes a deeply satisfying warmth and optimism that only seems intensified by this stark opposition. "Those holes on your face could be used better ways," O'Rourke sings whilst graceful acoustic plucking seemingly mocks our astonished reaction. "Breathing's a distraction when you chatter away."
The band that Jim O'Rourke has assembled for this album includes a glut of Chicago luminaries as well as Wilco's Jeff Tweedy, no doubt a tremendous help in crafting that ever-so-slightly-sneering authentic rock sound. Happily, the collaboration will continue with the next Wilco album, 'Yankee Hotel Foxtrot', produced by O'Rourke.
The only thing wrong with this venomous, beautiful and perfect record is that there's just not enough of it.
by James Poletti