Over the Rhine ~ Meet Me at the Edge of the World

9.3

One could accuse me of having a bias on this review. After all, OtR and I are both from Ohio, and the band's core members even went to the same college that I just graduated from. Not only that, but Meet Me continually returns to themes of home, and not just in the generic sense, but in a very real, specific, Ohio sense. But, then again, one could also accuse me of being biased against this band for those very reasons. I love getting out of Ohio (as do most Ohioans that you talk to), I've never had much school spirit, and as a newlywed living in a small, rented space I'm not entirely sure what the concept of "home" means to me right now. So, I'd like to think that any of those causes for bias are simply false accusations, or at the very least might balance each other out. The latter is more likely true.

Now that all of that has been (almost surely unnecessarily) settled, I want to talk about one of the best new albums I've heard in a long while. Although it didn't appear on any of the number of "top albums" lists for 2013 that I came across around New Year's time, this is my unofficial #1 from last year. Meet Me is a double album that spans virtually every mood OtR's catalog has touched, at least over the past 15 years. (I am, very unfortunately, not familiar with the band's earliest work). They sound as bright as ever on tracks like "Highland County" and the bluesy "Gonna Let My Soul Catch My Body," while still turning down the lights for "I'd Want You" and "All Of It Was Music." But, what's more impressive than the band's transitions from cheerful to mournful to reminiscent to optimistic is the comfort with which they make all those moves. There is not a single note on the album that feels out of place, and yet it somehow feels as if the entire nineteen-song collection could have been improvised from a porch-swing at the Detweiler-Bergquist homestead. That sentiment is emphasized when the album closes with "Favorite Time of Light," a song that perfectly captures what the end of a day means for two people who have had their struggles and yet are still fully devoted to one another. One can't help but imagine the couple sitting on their front porch, paint-chipped and falling apart in that character-enhancing sort of way, as they harmonize: "So add this to your list of simple beauties / I know we're gonna miss it when we go / while barren fields undress their gentle mysteries / we dream an ocean in Ohio." Like much of the album, it is beauty and sadness mixed in just the right proportions, and it is not only brilliant but somehow heartwarming.

I believe that mixture of beauty and sadness, while it certainly stems partly from the couple's own life experiences, must also come from the place they call home. Regardless of how much the members of OtR have experienced it firsthand, the Rust Belt of Ohio and its neighbors has a history, and that history can be felt. It can be felt in the driving minor key and whining strings of "Sacred Ground." It can be felt in the cautious optimism and defiance of "Don't Let the Bastards Get You Down." It can be felt in the content submission of "It Makes No Difference." But, though that history can be felt, it is never simply accepted. Over the Rhine are certainly aware that Ohio, especially certain parts of Ohio, is a land that has been beat down, but they are also part of that land that refuses to give up. The upbeat blues of "Baby If This Is Nowhere" drives that point home, and it does it with an infectiously fun spirit. As Bergquist puts it, the sky is the one who's "got a big ol' case of the blues." 

In a way, that song serves as the thesis for the manifesto that is Meet Me at the Edge of the World: "Baby if this is nowhere / how sweet it is to find." In other words, who cares about stuff? Bergquist and Detweiler have everything they need to be happy, and it isn't all that much. Thinking through every song on Meet Me, it's difficult to name one material possession that's mentioned in these songs. Sure, there are a few references here and there when one really digs through the lyrics, but they're to things like a "brokenhearted piano" and a "mailbox full of weariness." As the song "Called Home" puts it, "And stories they get passed around / and laughter, it gets handed down." Anybody can tell you to stop worrying, that life is beautiful and you should be content. And yes, I believe very deeply that they would be correct, but I also know that those things are hard to accept, especially as generic statements. Such things take more than a breath to convince anyone of, and Over the Rhine have essentially used nineteen songs to do just that. And they haven't done it by carefully cropping out the bad parts, or skimming over the sadness, or ignoring the harder issues that plague us. They tackle the winters, storms, and droughts of life. They even tackle the idea of death, in "Wildflower Bouquet," and managed to write one of the most simple and beautiful songs that you will ever hear in the process. They've given us a view of life that is difficult, confusing, sad, happy, funny, anything you can think of; but more than anything else, they've given us a more complete view of life than most artists are willing to portray, and in that wholeness there is a life-affirming, tear-inducing, toe-tapping, heart-warming, soul-satisfying beauty.