Grace Beneath the Pines: The For Carnation

The Songwriter. What a daunting prospect. I would like to humbly consider myself a songwriter. I really would. But simple long division makes it a difficult stake to claim. When I think of songwriters--largely the ones that I admire anyway--I think of those haunted by a need to write words; an inherent desire that reveals itself in a prolific body of work. As a person who takes great pain in the songwriting process, I take comfort in the relatively scant catalog of one of my favorite songwriters--one Brian McMahan--the quality of who's discography is largely aided by its scantness.

Despite McMahan's fundamental involvement with two of the most sweepingly influential bands Louisville ever produced (that of Squirrel Bait and Slint), my loyalties--however ridiculously--have always been firmly entrusted in McMahan's less-deified ensemble of late, the enigmatic For Carnation. With less than 10 songs recorded in their first five years of their existence (over two EPs and a compilation appearance here and there), the For Carnation somehow managed to be placed comfortably among the upper escalon of my CD collection.

With Fight Songs and Marshmallows, McMahan and Co. (including the likes of such post-rock royalty as David Pajo, Doug McCombs, and John Herndon) fashioned some of indie rock's most simple and delicate compositions--songs so stark and beautiful that they were scarcely even there. Minimal voice and guitar arrangements that were anything but folk, the first two For Carnation releases expanded on the less muscular moments of Slint's classic Spiderland (think "good morning, captain" or "washer")--but of even wispier design.

In 2000, The For Carnation finally made their "full-length" debut with a six-song self-titled release. The record maintained the somber cast of the band's previous releases, though largely abandoning their subdued soundscape. Despite being a regular who's who of then-modern indie rock (with guest spots by Kim Deal, John McEntire, Rachel Haden, and Britt Walford, among others), The For Carnation forwent the subtle brilliance of the band's early works for more straightforward post-rock jam-outs--essentially eclipsing all the good that came before it in one wanky swoop. That was the last we heard of the For Carnation.

Still, the original EPs remain beautiful capsules of a time when Brian McMahan and his For Carnation, over the course nary a dozen songs, were very briefly--yet very definitively--the Greatest Band of All Time.