Kurt Vile’s sound may often come across as easygoing. But the Philadelphia guitarist is no slacker, having refined his woozy aesthetic across seven solo albums, more on tour than off. Meandering on a skateboard may be his natural state, but Vile’s output is packed with melodies, down-to-earth observations and heavy-lidded good cheer: these are tunes that milkmen could happily whistle.
His records aren’t hard to love, but this one just throws itself at you. The tracklisting may kick off with a pair of tunes about travel – Goin on a Plane Today and Flyin (Like a Fast Train) – but Vile is actually doing some serious nesting here, taking in the view, examining the contents of his brain, making music about making music. His newly built home studio, OKV Central, figures in song, as does his neighbourhood. Often, he will just narrate the contents of his head. He’s happy to be opening for Neil Young, he sees “baby red maples growing in the hedges” – a mindset so beatifically in the moment, Vile could legitimately set himself up as a meditation guru. Even the bad vibes – lysergic imagery, a cover of Bruce Springsteen’s Wages of Sin – can’t harsh the fundamental loveliness of Vile’s offering.
