LP Edition of 500.  Bandcamp. 

$23

Well into the third decade of their existence as a musical juggernaut, a new (or at least semi-new) quartet iteration of Nashville’s most aggressively shambolic band, The Cherry Blossoms, has recorded this dandy taster of a new LP. And Feeding Tube is tickled pink to bring it to you.

Surreal ruralists of the highest order, this version of the Blossoms includes long-time

collaborator, Josephine Foster, as a card-carrying member. Josephine has been colluding with the

Blossoms for many years, and while most of their meets were live shows that exist only in the

memories of those who have witnessed them, some documentation exists in the form of the Mystery Meet LP (FTR511). On Stars of Tennessee, Ms. Foster adds autoharp, guitar, recorder and vocals, merging with the collective’s original members: Peggy Snow (guitar, spoons, kalimba, vocals), John Allingham (guitar, harmonica, vocals) and Chris Davis (drums).  Allen Lowery (another regular Blossom) was not around for this session, but Victor Herrero added guitar to a couple of tunes. 

And what tunes they are. The Cherry Blossoms always manage to evoke the simple pleasures of campfire sing-alongs, with the deep commingling of common interest and intimate friendship that idea evokes, interspersed with the sort of weird, but soft-edged logical jumps associated with the kings of post-hippie hillbillyism, the Holy Modal Rounders. It’s not easy to tease apart the specifics of this binary aesthetic operation, but the band manages to pluck the twangers of both innocence and experience with equal vigor — ambidextrous William Blake aktion of the highest order.

The vocal and instrumental blends here range from beautifully pure to emotionally amplified, with lyrical topics that flow from nature’s seasonal changes to the war in Ukraine. But everything is bathed in the same crafty light of sophisticated primitivism that illuminates the work of Michael Hurley (who has told me he’s a long time Blossoms fan.) The homespun simplicity of this musical approach is wonderfully comforting and familiar, but the lyrics contains enough coded mystery (or at least sublime vaguery) to keep attentive listeners occasionally wondering what the hell is actually going on.

And really, the only answer is, hey — it’s The Cherry Blossoms. There’s nothing else exactly like them. So do yourself a favor and stock the hell up. You never know when you’ll need a jolt of their essential whatsis. But need it you will.

–Byron Coley, 2024