Steve Wynn, co-founder, vocalist, guitarist, songwriter and general head honcho of methodically-morose-but-perpetually-propulsive ‘80s L.A. alt-rockers The Dream Syndicate, recorded the entirety of this 19-song set in Spain throughout the 1990s and 2000s. But until now, the tracks were never available anywhere else, so this is going to be new listening for all but Wynn’s most ?dogged disciples.
As you’d probably expect from a record that takes an hour and 15 minutes to get from start to finish, it’s easy to lose your bearings (and your attention) in the midst of such a daunting volume of material. But approach it with a little patience and some notion of where to start, and “Sketches of Spain” has some pretty good sounds to offer.
While the bass groove on the album opener, “I’m Not Listening,” bounces and ?lurches its way into a glittery guitar break with the sleazy thrust of Franz Ferdinand’s most danceable tracks, Wynn expectorates each bitter syllable like Iggy Pop, still groggy from his afternoon nap.
He imbues the cover of Three Dog Night’s “Never Been to Spain” with a tasteful dash of dry humor, relating his lifelong interest in (but perennial absence from) heaven, Hawaii, Paris and the titular country in a ranch hand’s sturdy growl. Chipper horn blasts punctuate the tracks ambient float of Hammond organ as shimmying maracas add subtle texture.
Fuzzed-out electric guitar and flabby tribal drums shroud “Kickstart My Jackknife” in an ominous murk reminiscent of the Rolling Stones’ “I Just Want to See His Face,” and Wynn’s murmured vocal sounds like it’s coming from the bathroom down the hall.
“Suddenly,” one of the record’s most interesting tracks, combines ‘60s girl group “sha-la-las” with lush, over-the-top, Pat Boone-meets-James Bond theme song strings. And the dirty descending chord riff of “Quarantine” does its best to cage the phased, modulated guitar solo, a spaced-out time machine to the meandering explorations of Syd Barret-era Pink Floyd.
Not every song here is a must-hear, of course. Wynn’s voice is a strong one, and he’s got a knack for infusing it with a multitude of entertaining, American-inspired inflections. But on tracks like piano-anchored dirge “Free Love” and pseudo-rap “Hollywood Sign,” his baritone can tend towards a well-executed monotony. Most every song on the record is thoughtfully crafted, but the less-than-stellar cuts start to run together, especially over the course of 75 minutes.
Like the aforementioned Jeep, “Sketches in Spain” can be a lot of fun, so long as that transmission holds. Just keep the new from wearing off and save it for top-down ventures to the grocery store, not your hour-each-way commute five times a week.
