Nobody's Son: The Papercuts

I'm going to do my best to rope this back in. I've been getting a little off track lately.

On one of my first trips to Portland, then acquaintance Owen Ashworth and I spent an awkward, enlightening, and eventually life-altering 24 hours together on a whim--he was coming down to play a show and wanted some company, I was honored to oblige. The ride was a little rocky at first (conversation a bit stifled, as to be expected) but eventually hit its stride upon reaching the topic of--what else--music. We spoke at length of his failed record label, which included only two releases: the first his own, and the second a band he was briefly in called the Papercuts. As is often the case with Owen, the Papercuts were instantly awarded the title of his "favorite band," with much praise for his genius friend Jason Quever--a name I recognized from Owen's own records. "I've got a bunch of them left--I'll have to get you one." And that was the last I ever really heard about it.

A while later I was commissioned to throw together a rather ill-fated show for a man named Cass McCombs (another friend of Owen's) whose recently released EP Not The Way I had recently fallen in love with. And there was that Quever name again, producing and playing all over the thing. Now, if you're familiar with McCombs (I'll do a GBoAT on that dude sooner or later), you'll know that his records are captivating sonic statements--an all or nothing enveloping wash that works as an incredibly strong contrast to the bulk of the voguish hipster folk movement currently at hand. And, as I was soon to find out, this success is due in no small to the careful hand of Jason Quever.

The Papercuts is another of those revolving door projects, historically featuring folks like Cass and Owen, but for the most part just revolving around Quever alone. His first album, 2000's Rejoicing Songs (the one Owen was talking about), is largely a clunky affair--with Modest Mouse's heavy influence a little too felt throughout (apparently Quever doesn't think so highly of the record--I think I got my copy against his wishes). Since then his sound has evolved dramatically, taking on a beautifully timeless air that is simultaneously reverential of a number of likely sources of the folk era--pulling the curtain back a little bit on the wizardry of Cass' sound.

Since meeting him about a year ago, Jason has been circulating different versions of the Papercuts' self-titled EP on CD-R, I couple of which I have received and nearly worn-out--with particular regard for the song "Pan American Blues pt. 2." Simply put, one of my very favorite songs of the last couple of years--whose chorus just levels me everytime. There was talk (and even a release date) for the record (now titled A Fairy Tale) to come out on Cass' label Monitor Records, but after some reportedly shifty circumstances, the plans were axed--with plans for release on a smaller label in the near future. Plans are also being laid for Quever to collaborate on the next Casiotone For the Painfully Alone record--a notion that, as you can imagine, excites me a great deal. Unsung and underappreciated, we here at GBoAT pray that our man Q gets his just dues, and gets them quick.