On their third LP, Harvester steeps the listener in elemental imagery.  “Older than mountains, higher than air.”  “Swimming in fire.”  One song is even called “He Tripped Over Air.”  Terra firma is stressed above all: dirt, hills, valleys, leaves, the mud of the title.  A natural world – fountains, flora, fauna – is woven throughout like a cinematic motif.  Congruently, Mud Is My Ally is a more acoustic effort than before, with violins and recorders adding pleasant, pungent airs.  It’s also their most consistent effort.  The extended compositional strolls that made long stretches of Me Climb Mountain rather snoozy have been replaced by more concise gestures. 

The creative wellsprings of the band remain loose and raffish as when they formed in ’93, with goofy geekdom intact.  Meat Puppets and Camper Van Beethoven are their natural lineage: wry, smart-assed, brains fully baked by a Western sun.  They remain full of country-shuffle backbeats and refried redwood melodies.  Vocalist and guitarist Sean Harrasser remains a leading man of alt-rock lyricism, both on natural observation and interpersonal reflection.  “In the faded years of youth our aged souls rejoice: (“Slow”); “Glacial cuts turn into sand” (“Pendleton”).

Some themes are lighter.  “Taking the Elevator!” features an Arabia/Wild West buzz-riff, escalating in joy as Harrasser exclaims, “If you came here for quality, I think you’ll be disappointed” and “The song’s so catchy and the theme so sweet, you might forget that we cannot sing.”  In a Westerbergian ecstasy he then screams, “LAY DOWN!  PLEASE SHUT UP!  I am trying to sleep!  “This Dirt Don’t Hurt” is the group’s parting shot at ex-label Geffen: “Three years ago, they said we weren’t good enough, then yesterday, they said it again.” 

Harvester haven’t forgotten how to plug in, as in the garbage grind of “Mountains to the East”; the loose-juiced mash of “Teenage Foot Soldier”; the hoedown ecstasy of “Taking the Elevator!”  Their giddy teen rock makes the pastoral beauty of a track like “The Cooling Drain” even more effective.  Sean sings of melting leaves, pods sticking to wool shirts, and “silhouettes of the desert’s lonely minarets.” The guitar line’s tinny 12-string beauty is creek water curling playfully over your back.

Mud is Harvester’s most focused, restrained album.  In their adenoidal, rock-as-Shiva madness, they’re a cross between Buddy Holly and Neil Young…or the cross-eyed children of Hendrix and the Shaggs. 

–Bill Abelson