Comicopera

Comicopera, loosely characterized as an eclectic arrangement of symphonic folk compositions, spans at least three different languages and vocally unfolds from different characters.

Like so many singular artists, Wyatt's presence spans the record and ultimately gives it its necessary gel. His multi-octave voice booms, croons, and cracks across the album with stunning clarity and consistency.

There are few who could delve into such weighty issues without succumbing to empty rhetoric, but it's testament to Wyatt's unpretentious approach that he pulls off the trick while retaining a lightness of touch that makes Comicopera such a consistent pleasure to listen to.

Comicopera may not be all comic, and indeed inverts the entire comic opera notion of beginning with a catastrophe and ending with redemption, but Wyatt's never been so simple. What he has been, however, is close to brilliant, and this delightfully engaging little set will, if heard, more likely than not bring more people sniffing 'round his large body of work than anything he's done since the early '90s.

Structured like an opera in three hazy "acts," the CD is like spending a cloudy afternoon on Jupiter lazing with the old man, his quizzical sonic tricks at arm's reach, his singing as ageless and haunting as the ammonia rain.

It's hard to imagine a record more original or full of life, from any artist of any age, emerging this year. It's that damn good.

Sometimes life-affirming, and occasionally unlistenable. As ever, Wyatt leaves his listeners no safety net.

Delineated acts aside, the disc maintains a certain sonic consistency, carefully balancing discord with grace; the structure does pay off, however-- particularly the first two-thirds.

Wyatt himself is the first to admit that a concept album about searching for connections and meaning in today's world could be considered pretentious, but listening to it, you wish more people shared his spirit and ambition.