Burly Temple Is Back With More Unnecessary Music
In order to hover motionless, a hummingbird must beat its wings 70 times per second. The same can be said of Burly Temple, a band that seemingly releases 70 albums per second but only manages to hover in place without ever moving forward.
If the value of music was determined soley by its weight, Burly Temple's discography would be quite remarkable. Unfortunately, qualities such as melody, harmony, rhythm, lyrical perspective and conceptual vision all conspire to keep Burly Temple—or more specifically, frontman/songwriter/principal musician Alex Volz—mired in a black hole of unnecessary, self-indulgent digital releases designed for an audience of one.
Consider as evidence, his rambling lyrical dissertations on obscure topics like the making of Axl Rose's Chinese Democracy album or the run-off election in his local city council district. Or his 45-minute spoken word album about the history of the American shopping mall. Other than Volz himself, did anyone really want a double album of imitation SoundCloud rap from a stay-at-home dad in his forties?
While previous Burly Temple releases have provided nothing more than curious spectacle for Volz's six closest friends, they did at least manage to succeed on their own admittedly futile terms. If for some reason you crave lots of information about shopping malls, he can give it to you.
Volz is clearly in his element when aiming at appropriately low-brow targets like changing diapers or eating burritos, but on this latest release he finds himself punching way above his intellectual class by exploring topics such as the civil war in Syria, the silence of God in the face of human suffering, and Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard's concept of the dizziness of freedom.
In a sense, Burly Temple's Freedom: The Album is like Hamlet if all the parts were performed by Rob Schneider. It can be hard to distinguish good bad art from bad good art, but contrary to adding depth and meaning to his work, Volz's newfound intellectual ambitions only highlight how shallow and meaningless his work really is.
Is he really exploring Kiekegaard's dizziness of freedom as he laments the overwhelming number of toothpaste brands on the shelves before him? He'd probably like you to think so. But a more likely story is that he was baked and lost at Walmart again. The fact that he thinks he's being smart only makes this album dumber.
Similarly, ideas like racially oblivious baby boomers, sexually repressed religious leaders, and toxic internet rage are invoked only insofar as they can provide fodder for cheap laughs, yet remain untouched by the empathy or curiosity we associate with writers of class and distinction.
“The War on Christmas” glibly sidesteps its titular culture war to indulge an irrelevant story about vengeful elves murdering Santa. With “Country Music Never Lies” Volz is happy to mock contemporary country music as ridden with empty-headed cliches, but clearly makes no effort to seek out any country music beyond what's available on the FM radio in his Honda Oddessy minivan.
Volz ultimately reveals himself to be a lyrical charlatan, content to score a quick laugh but lacking in the intellectual courage necessary to honor for the powerful themes he so blithely invokes.
That's not to say the album is completely without merit. Like most Burly Temple releases, there are impressive flourishes of musicianship—mostly by guest performers. In that regard at least, this album may be Burly Temple's finest yet.
Drummer Scott Keil helps to distract from Volz's lyrical shortcomings with wide, heavy grooves that command all booties be shaken. Brian Hobart selflessly volunteers some bass and keyboard parts that were clearly too challenging for Volz to perform himself. Chattanooga drum sensation Adam Brown decorates his two tracks with tasteful fills, bold creative choices, and clever musical allusions.
He also handled the albums mixing and mastering, which explains a far more polished and professional sound than Burly Temple fans are accustomed to—if Burly Temple fans actually exist beyond Volz's small skull.
Listen for yourself: https://open.spotify.com/artist/5WiwybbFkJnnXMOfHqdys0