GREAT NORTHERN, DIVISION DAY, BARTON CARROLL
(Sunset) The music of Barton Carroll creeps me out. And that is a good thing indeed. So many folks in the realms of roots and Americana are so darned likeable—either as entertainers, or imaginary drinking buddies, or for their folksy humility. But Carroll seems unconcerned with such poses. Which isn’t to imply the Seattle vet is a jerk; he’s just unashamed of sounding… well, weird, even on recognizable covers like “Dark End of the Street.” His recent full-length, Love & War, offers up 10 melancholy miniatures shaded with brass, woodwinds, and strings, plus disquieting chromatic ornamentation. And his singing voice, a tremulous yet tender keen, recalls oddballs like Robert Wyatt or Antony, particularly on haunting originals like “Scorched Earth.” This isn’t outsider art, per se, but it evokes a similar, beguiling-yet-scary affect. KURT B. REIGHLEY