Half-Handed Cloud: "Foot On The Brake/A Suit Of Clouds To Ride The Skies"

The Kitty-appointed “economy” of John Ringhofer’s casioboned ditties belies the insistence of each song to wield spiritual majesty in broad, monochromatic strokes. If Half-Handed Cloud didn’t effuse such doe-eyed humility, didn’t track vocals like the saddest of Elliott Smiths, didn’t sing, “Switch your car for a bus pass, or ride on the subway / Either way you’ll pass through the body of God / No matter if you ride or if you trot,” and transform its dopiness into conviction, then maybe I’d be irked by the Christian proselytizing. There’s also the banjo/dobro breakdown at the end of “Foot,” spacing the dippy electronic beat with a xylophone, that’s as unpredictable as the wash of Lord euphemisms and capitalized pronouns throughout HHC’s new LP, but still gulldurn tappable.

In fact, Ringhofer’s thematic adherence is never enough to swallow up the delicate prowess of his lyrics in one righteous gulp. Not that his words are particularly subtle or restrained in the Sunday School cheerleading, but the way Ringhofer slides from tune to tune maintains a dreamy, even raw, attention to detail. From “Foot On The Break” into “A Suit of Clouds,” palatable conservationalism balloons into a vignette of metaphysical grandeur taking the “body of God” to literal heights. Which isn’t a necessarily novel approach to the idea of Christ or the coming of a redemptive Apocalypse, but the melodies repeated tersely in squeaky, fey verses, calling to mind Asthmatic labelmates Castanets, conjures up hollow, absorbent space even in the most confining structures. It’s kinda a little miracle, but then it’s also kinda a mash-up of the Veggietales and the Shins. Holding hands.