Robert Jordan‘s “Vincent and Theo” is more than an album; it is a sonic pilgrimage. This veteran troubadour from Boulder has put together a tapestry of sound that is as intricate as a Van Gogh masterpiece and as brooding as a Nietzscheenean soliloquy. All of that lies just in the labyrinths of personal trials and societal observations that Jordan’s voiceᅳweathered with soul-deep timbreᅳguides the listener through.
The music is raw, unfiltered, like staring into an abyss and finding an entire universe. The record flows incredibly well, going from the jubilation of “Song for Bob” into the somberness of “Purgatory.” It’s like it was Dylan but had been instilled with The Doors’ spirit, now matured into its own Zen-like wisdom.
With producers Gray and Snider, each song feels like that strong vessel through which Jordan gets to exploreᅳfamiliar yet alienᅳlike reuniting with an old friend who has just discovered quantum physics. Christian Teele’s drumming lays down beats as solid as a lighthouse beam, while Rebecca Abraxas’ backing vocals are ethereal beauty on top of ethereal beauty.
An already beautiful song, “In Heaven,” becomes one bitter ballad of noir-tinged smoky jazz clubs and lost souls, hanging a moment in timeᅳthe jasmine fragrances of warm summer nights. “Over for Good” stomps out the shoes; it is utterly a passionate release. Then you have “Purgatory”ᅳscathing social commentary on institutional religion, timely and timelessᅳdemanding to be heard like sermons for disillusioned hearts.
Jordan’s lyrics are written-in-stone poetryᅳvulnerable yet defiant; more storyteller at times, he’s painting vivid pictures with his words against melodies that are his inner world soundtrack. “Vincent and Theo” goes beyond merely being an album; it allows us to step right into Jordan’s profound journey through self-discoveryᅳan experience surely fascinating to travel through.
