I found this album posted on a message board some years ago, and found the album cover and title very alluring, but was very turned off by the artist name. Just sounded dull, so I added it to my list and moved on. A few months ago I was browsing my list and the title caught me: the Complete Guide to Insufficiency. Reminded me of Douglas Adams’ seminal work The Complete Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, so I went online and gave it a spin. Within 2 minutes it is vitally apparent that something has gone awry, as Broughton completely throws off what I expect out of not just folk music, but music in general. This is Fuck Buttons folk music.
The first song sets the tone for the whole album, as Broughton takes his time creeping along through his songs. Not at a glacial pace, per say, just a desire and execution of his music the way he wants it to be heard. I think this is an important aspect of the album to note. Broughton has some beautiful hooks, and the memorable parts of his music hinge on the melodies he is able to create. But he is not making this album for us; this is a personal reflection on a few topics of interest to him, ranging from love, war, cannibalism, and rape and each is dissected in a matter of a few gorgeously written lines. But we as listeners do not get to hear these thoughts until Broughton’s good and ready. That’s why the first few songs take 2-3 minutes of repeated chords, a single guitar looped over itself until it’s ready to burst, and then his deep, emotional voice croons in. At that point we begin to take in what he is trying to say, and on songs like Track 2, Execution, his lyrics on love are as unique and powerful as anything I’ve ever heard. The stanza: “I wouldn’t take her to an execution, I wouldn’t take her to a live sex show. I wouldn’t piss or shit on her would I, cause I love her so.” Have you ever heard a love song describing these horrid acts that one wouldn’t subject a loved one to? Yet when you’re listening to this, I know that I wouldn’t do anything of the sort to someone I loved, and I think that’s enough sometimes. While singing these lines, Broughton carries his most hummable tune for about 2 minutes, before dissolving into a wail of acoustic guitars almost as soon as the you start bopping your head along.
The entire album was recorded in one take at a church near Broughton’s house, an eerily important fact. Hear the bells at the end of Unmarked Grave. Those are supposedly church bells, not planned by Brougton but organically recorded and fitting in perfectly, without regard for key, time signature, or pace. They just work. And during the last song, Broughton tries to hit a high register while crooning out the words “in Delighttttt.” But he falters, and cuts off the word delight much shorter than I think he intended, and plays a wrong guitar note. I make this assumption based on the fact that he immediately tries again, and this time just perfectly nails the note. The album as a whole feels alive and personal because of this recording technique.
This is a beautiful album that got lost in the shuffle. Pitchfork did not review it until the year after its release year. I think it is a wonderment of folk music, simply gorgeous work by a young man grappling with difficult topics at his own pace. He is not pandering to his listener, nor is he attempting to shatter the folk world. He simply plays the music that appears in his head. And what delightfully results is an album unlike anything I’ve ever heard.
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