Sean McArdle’s Northern Charms
The "trans-North American punk recluse" brings his Northern Charms to Washington, D.C.
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Sean McArdle is soft spoken. He confesses as much on his debut LP, Northern Charms, a stripped-down, introspective reincarnation of his former work as frontman of “improvised bedroom rock” project Driving By Braille and Lookout! Records’ The Cost. McArdle seems to have thrown away everything but his lo-fi voice after moving from the West Coast to Washington, D.C. to go solo.
Instead of post-hardcore angsty guitars, McArdle offers a mature, muted version of himself—sometimes to an extreme—in honest Americana and gothic folk. Northern Charms combines classic ’70s folk with Nick Drake atmospherics, plainspoken poetry, and Hank Williams-style finger picking. The result is 10 cohesive tracks that don’t waver in tone, energy, or landscape. Opening with “Last Words,” a grimy, lyrical ballad about average carpenters building an ark in their yard, the album features haunting, elegant moments such as delicate guitar picking paired with throaty vocals in “Follow In Kind” and eerily thin harmonies on “Joy.”
Even if it’s not quite clear what "northern charms" encompass, McArdle suggests that they’re not far off from the Southern iteration: lo-fi, whiskey and gin, last cigarettes, and a brooding wallflower that you wish would speak up once in awhile.
