It’s easy to love the Folk Implosion. In a scene full of misfits, Lou Barlow and John Davis stood out as a platonic ideal of outsider musicians during the early 1990s due to their haphazard bedroom recordings that found their way onto limited-edition cassette tapes on unusually obscure labels. Drugs were undoubtedly involved, and the sound quality could be hilariously amateurish. Many songs were first or second takes recorded on a Walkman. Random but prescient covers of Nirvana (an acoustic version of “School”) and Tom Petty (“I Won’t Back Down”) were also part of their cracked repertoire.
Yet, there was a charmingly democratic quality to their style and output. Their lo-fi, kitchen-sink ethos on albums like Take a Look Inside…. (1994) seemed to convey that anyone could be an indie rocker, concealing (not very well) the fact that Barlow had been a founding member of Dinosaur Jr. and was moonlighting from Sebadoh, his esteemed garage rock band. Still, Davis brought out a fun, more relaxed side to Barlow. Together, they came across as a slacker, Gen-X version of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern: two minor characters who were content being on the sidelines, observing and sardonically making fun of the larger alt-rock drama before them.
As if by karma, all of this came to an end with the film Kids (1995). Harmony Korine and Larry Clark, the writer and director of the film, respectively, approached Barlow about creating the soundtrack. Flush with Hollywood cash, Barlow and Davis set to work on this opportunity at Fort Apache in Boston, having unbridled access to studio equipment that brought their evolving vision into sharper focus.
The result was an unexpected trip-hop masterpiece. Taking cues from Beck and Portishead, the single “Natural One” from their recording sessions charted high and made its way into the collective consciousness through commercials and other licensing opportunities, even though the song never actually appeared in the movie. The film’s original soundtrack from 1995 did not include all their material, which has only recently been released as Music for KIDS (2023). Nonetheless, though other bands like Sonic Youth and R.E.M. had dabbled in hip hop with limited success, the Folk Implosion got the formula right through Davis’s smart, compelling percussion and Barlow’s restrained and haunting vocal delivery.
Success proved challenging to sustain. Before Davis departed in 2000, the Folk Implosion issued two more albums, Dare to Be Surprised (1997) and One Part Lullaby (1999), which furthered their indie rock/trip-hop leanings and are underrated. Songs like “Insinuation” and “E.Z. L.A.” took their style in new directions. Barlow released another album with a new lineup, 2003’s The New Folk Implosion, involving Russ Pollard and Imaad Wasif, but the magic had dissipated. True to its name, the Folk Implosion – sorry, guys – imploded.
Their new album, Walk Thru Me, consequently marks an unexpected but welcome return. The title genuflects to their first cassette, Walk Through This World with the Folk Implosion (1993), though the music, unsurprisingly, is a world apart. Walk Thru Me sounds exactly like what it is: two artists coming together after an over two-decade-long hiatus. The chemistry is different. The synergy isn’t quite the same. The album reflects a situation of two friends who have known each other for a long time, bringing song ideas together to see what transpires. As witnessed in the last presidential debate, you can’t fake your age. In this instance, Barlow and Davis exhibit new strengths and approaches that depart from their cavalier youth.
As a start, I never thought I would write this sentence, but Lou Barlow reminds me of Peter Gabriel on this LP. This association hits on the opening track, “Crepuscular”, and especially on the title track, which recalls Gabriel circa “Solsbury Hill” from Peter Gabriel (1977). Davis, meanwhile, sounds like Bob Dylan circa Time Out of Mind (1997) on his first song, “The Day You Died”, and his second, “Bobblehead Doll”. In short, Walk Thru Me imparts mostly a progressive folk vibe rather than a trip-hop one.
Some of the old, weird, chaotic energy comes back on the Barlow-fronted “The Fable and the Fact”. The Davis-penned “Water Torture” also returns to a trip-hop orientation. The closer “Moonlit Kind” equally has the off-kilter verve from their pre-millennium catalog. It may be the best song on the record. Whether by virtue of the recording process or design, Walk Thru Me settles into a more familiar groove by the LP’s denouement.
Everything said, Barlow and Davis are clearly starting a new chapter of the Folk Implosion rather than simply returning to an old version of themselves, which is unavoidable. Their first iteration was full of inside jokes and audio pranks, including madcap short stories (“Third Mind Trouble”), a cappella nonsense (“Walk Through This World”), and melodramatic listener guides (“End of the First Side”). Their name was a joke, riffing off the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. (As an aside, Davis went to Brown University like Spencer, though it is unclear if they knew one another.)
Walk Thru Me consequently sounds like a work in progress, which the Folk Implosion always has been. Davis and Barlow’s commitment to experimentation remains. This album doesn’t entirely gel the way their previous LPs once did – Davis and Barlow used to sing together regularly as part of their arch shtick – but their enduring friendship is still palpable. That is something they have always taken seriously.