Forget all you know about his books being banned for their association of scandalous behavior. Even forgo the fact that Lawrence was exiled for his writing to the point of not necessarily having a home. Reading D.H. Lawrence between World War I and World War II was commonplace. Writers sought to write like him. His description of place and emotions was unparalleled. His childhood in a mining town in Nottinghamshire made him a keen observer of those who enjoyed life down to its marrow despite never having a lot worth celebrating. These coal miners and their families were intertwined over generations by this occupation, and they lived constantly with the specter that might end it all in a wisp of time.
In his most famous and treasured work, 1913's "Sons and Lovers," Lawrence presents you with characters that you instantly know. These are not archetypes or even what detractors would call tropes, these are the common people that constitute the working class. They work every day to make ends meet. They work to keep their families together. They work to somehow aid in the escape of the next generation from this looming but still beautiful world. Such is the duality of Lawrence, turning the loss of his dear mother - his champion - into the inspiration for finding himself outside of the bounds of marriage.
His earliest work, "The Odour of Chrysanthemums," was written in 1909, published in 1911, and revised in late 1914. The central story does not even fill a paragraph. We meet Elizabeth Bates, a dutiful wife of a coal miner in a coal mining town. She carries on her responsibilities with her children. One night, the train does not bring her husband home on time. Lawrence's gift to the world is developing this kernel of an idea into a realm of possibilities. Through Lawrence's narrator, this dour world is painted with a beautiful but appropriate brush. "A large bony vine clutched at the house, as if it were trying to claw down the tiled roof." In this haze of haunted majesty for all those living this life, and those who trod the muddy paths before, Lawrence expresses both reverence and reality. The train makes "slow inevitable movement," while the nearby pit-bank is abandoned by birds and glows "ashy" with "flames like red sores" in the magic-hour sunset that Nature provides.
Elizabeth's life as a mother and a wife seems normal at its surface. Lawrence writes her as caring and duty-bound, but distracted. She is slightly overbearing with her son and overprovides for her father, the locomotive driver. Thankfully, her caution does not overwhelm the boy, even as they sit in near darkness, he finds comfort in the flickering flames of the fire. In smaller detail, her father, who drives the workers daily, calls down from the train for a cup of tea. Elizabeth brings buttered toast in addition. Lawrence is essentially showing us her limits, which are about to be tested.
On a larger scale, "Chrysanthemums" chronicles exactly how ordinary life is there from house to house. If your miner husband does not come home for tea at four, we'll see if he is at the public house. If he is not at the "Prince O'Wales," well then he is probably at the "Yew Tree." These paths are as carved into the muddy soil as they are into the grey matter of their brains. With no answer, Elizabeth's internal monologue continues to draw from her worst experiences. This device provides Lawrence with a method to give us some history. While Elizabeth has now been waiting for four hours, worry and anger are the engines forcing her to leave and figure this out. To our surprise, everywhere she goes, fellow wives and their husbands lend a hand and are sympathetic. Elizabeth is not panicked, but you get the feeling that they have all been there enough to know not to be dismissive.
Then it happens. The event you felt was coming, so no spoilers. Walt, Elizabeth's husband, was at neither pub. Back to the mines as the shifts change, word is out that he did not come out with everyone else. This does not shock as you think it would, but it does cast a grim pall on an already gray place. Walt's mother appears weirdly dressed in black. As soon as she says, "I don't know, child, I can't tell you!" we know that the inevitable has happened.
In many of the works we have examined, the introduction of death is either a "coming together" or the opposite. Like "Juno and the Paycock," there is a communal majesty in its revelation here. We find out that Walt was trapped in a small cave-in and suffocated. Elizabeth seems less forward in communicating her grief, so internally, she immediately begins thinking of how she and the children are going to survive. In contrast, the mother is outwardly strong in her grieving, almost to the point of comfort.
Then the mine workers knock on the door and bring in the body. You, as a modern reader, are shocked by this. However, in its day, this was commonplace. There was no autopsy. No morgue. The sanctity of life even extended to families honoring those who passed in their homes. In Lawrence's story, Walt's presence is necessary. Mother moans so loudly that she wakes the kids upstairs. Elizabeth puts the children back to bed without even telling them. One woman brought Walt into this world. The other gave his spirit which will essentially keep this family going. Walt lies there on the carpet in the final place he called home.
As strange as this occurrence is, it does bring comfort. As the pair clean up Walt, they realize that he was not physically harmed by the cave-in. They brush out his mustache and gaze on him almost as if he were sleeping it off down there after being carried back from the Prince O' Wales. Then it happens. In language as plain as day, Lawrence gives both women closure. Mother is astonished at how white his unharmed body is. She calls him "lamb" and takes it as a sign that he has been forgiven. To Elizabeth, he is "heavy and inert" (so important that Lawrence says it twice). All her fears are somewhat assuaged, but now that she has a force larger than everyone and everything around her to fear.
NEW MUSIC THIS WEEK
DIERKS BENTLEY - Broken Branches [CLEAR LP/CD](Capitol)
Dierks Bentley has a lot of Country #1's, and the "Cold Beer Can" conceit is a clever one (although also using it on "Well Well Whiskey" is questionable.) Also, it is admirable that Bentley apparently listened to 4000 songs before selecting the seven he did not write for this 11-song album. However, following the trend of Pop/Country (the sub-Hootie "She Hates Me") does not hold as much promise as reviving Nineties-style Garth-era Country ("Standing in the Sun.")
RIVERS OF NIHIL [RANDOM COLOR LP/CD](Metal Blade/The Orchard)
Technical Death Metal is a dangerous hybrid. Despite accelerating toward you like a battering ram, the songs must maintain a delicate balance or risk losing their definition. Using drum loops and the growly/classic high vocal combination led to a bit of a breakthrough on 2021's "The Work." Four years later, Rivers of Nihil seem willing to try anything here including banjo and cello. "Dustman" lays out the Prog-ish contributions until the end giving the track a Grand Guignol finish that leads perfectly into the sinister but Rush-ian opening of "Criminals." This study is contrast is to their benefit on the sixth album. "Despair Church" leans a little too heavily on the radio-ready chorus, but it is saved by a weirdly diving guitar lick that keeps its feeling off center. If they are truly set on engineering a reach for the ring, the Tool-ian "Water and Time" cordons off their parts effectively even using saxophone (which they have employed for a while before Sleep Token.)
WITCH - Sogolo [LP/CD](Partisan/Virgin)
Zamrock legends do not need to change much about their sound on their second record since reuniting. Using Auto-Tune feels natural with the pulsating ping-pong writing here. "Queenless King" eschews structure to lace the infinite groove with more changes than you think can fit. Witch only has to dive into that classic voodoo polyrhythmic groove to win a whole new generation of fans raised with just a taste of African Rock.
KING GIZZARD AND THE LIZARD WIZARD - Phantom Island [LP/CD/CS](p(doom)/ Virgin)
When have you thought to yourself, "Sure wish that the prolific King Gizz could use more instruments on an album?!" Your wish is coming true with this horn-blast, string-swelling symphonic rock album. While it may not try to be Procol Harum or Moody Blues, it is amusing to hear the band race through their lightning-fast changes with others in tow.
BEN KWELLER - Cover The Mirrors [LP](The Noise Company/ThinkIndie)
They say the truth hits like a ton of bricks. On his first album since the loss of his teenage son (paid tribute to lovingly with M.J.Lenderman on "Oh Dorian,") Ben Kweller has never sounded so honest and human. "Mirrors" is not a depressing album, though it has a song that outlines his bout with "Depression." Kweller is aging gracefully as a writer, as his music spreads its Wilco-ian tendrils into Folk, Pop, and Rock. Waxahatchee drops by to rage on "Dollar Store," and The Flaming Lips float in on a "Killer Bee." However, Kweller maintains the helm, turning his overwhelming melancholy into sweet, memory-filled Pop.
BRONCHO - Natural Pleasure [GREEN LP](Broncho Worldwide/ThinkIndie)
Oklahoma's Broncho has truly mellowed out over the last 15 years. While you can still hear traces of their past flirtations with Garage and Electronics, "Natural Pleasure" revels in the dream cycle of writing the most hazy, almost-breathy Pop. The biggest surprise is how heavy they can be toward each other lyrically, while still keeping these songs floating along. Fuzzy vocals, shoegaze-y songs of longing (the gorgeous "Imagination"), and a sense of writing outside of time make "Natural" a true pleasure to dive straight into and stay submerged.
