I must admit, I don't really know very much about Tulsa, other than the boring run of the mill factoids that may populate a wikipedia page entry. As a north easterner, I don't imagine it to be that picturesque, dusty portrait of a rusty, old western city, complete with wild gunfights at high-noon and high-stakes poker showdowns. This information is seemingly irrelevant, right? Tulsa Drone is from Virginia, and wouldn't quite be described as playing "drone" music, but the name of instrumentally leaning bands can always reveal much about the internal thought processes that are otherwise kept hidden. Know the background about the bands you love kids; it'll make the experience much more enjoyable.

Tulsa Drone's name is a bit of an ambiguity then. The old-western influence is strong and very apparent in the band's music, as carried over from No Wake, and while not technically prescribing to drone techniques as we define it in modern day language, the hypnotizing effects of the repetitive guitar work could be classified as such. The signature bass hammered dulcimer is again present, but is much less dominant in Songs from a Mean Season than it was in its predecessor. What was once my favorite aspect of the band -- that being the dulcimer -- is now relegated to compliment the rest of the regiment. Inevitably, this has proved to be a smart choice for Tulsa Drone; with only a slight change in presentation they have been able to significantly change the feel of their music. Previously we saw a cocksure act that at times would come across as overly aggressive, but three years later that authoritative tone has been perfectly transformed into the image of Clint Eastwood circa Dirty Harry--powerful, but not commandingly so.

My main fascination with Songs from a Mean Season, and Tulsa Drone in general, is the fundamental structure of the repetitive guitar layers. Four out of the five members are credited with holding a guitar in two hands, so it's quite odd that the music has manifested as a restrained melodic force instead of a chaotic free-for-all. This underlying restraint, coupled with the cinematic magic of the music, creates quite the engaging album. Many bands who focus on relatively repetitious music really fail to grasp the concept of a cohesive narrative. Far too many overly zealous guitarists have blindly meandered down endless paths, losing sight of of the overarching theme of the album in favor of masturbatory compositions. This is another example where the maturity of Tulsa Drone shines. Simple compositions are kept engaging with subtle changes, making the transition from the beginning to the end of the song appear effortless. It's often difficult to pinpoint exactly where a song changes momentum or takes a new turn, but a larger awareness exists that the band is constantly hitting the listener with new sounds. This is skill. I'm reminded of acts like Labradford and Stars of the Lid when this observation is made; and although Tulsa Drone certainly have a much different goal in mind, it's interesting to see this throwback to more traditional instrumental bands. 

The crux of Songs from a Mean Season is that this is a genuinely sophisticated work of art. It is quite apparent from initial listens that this is a good album, but it's not until much later that the true brilliance of the album surfaces and the listener gains a full appreciation for what Tulsa Drone have accomplished. Songs from a Mean Season oozes of marvelous subtlety; the talent of the band is in full view at all time, but somehow they divert the limelight, almost as if they don't seek the attention. A younger band would capitalize on such an opportunity, and this would be reflected in the music: agitated songs would be unbecoming of Tulsa Drone. The band's coolness is not flamboyant. Instead they wear it like a well-traveled veteran.

Lastly, the vocal tracks on Songs from a Mean Season are the icing on a cake. I'm the first to admit that I despise it when perfectly good instrumental bands decide to ruin the mood by singing (and usually quite horribly at that). The exception is generally when the vocals are kept in the background and low in the mix, giving it a whispery, sometimes eerie presence. However, Tulsa Drone are out to make a stand. The boldest moves on the album are "The Plague" and "Mean Season," with full on vocals, the catch being that Erik Grotz can actually sing. Grotz's vocals are vaguely reminiscent of Johnny Cash, which perfectly complement the flow and tone of the album, instead of breaking apart the album's subtlety. These songs are so particularly strong that it makes you wonder if Tulsa Drone could pass for an actual indie rock band...but scenesters they aren't. While the entirety of the 48 minute cd is enthralling from start to finish, standout instrumental tracks are "Monogahela," "Risk Guitar," "We'll Take the Oregon Trail," and "Brace." Some remarkable craftsmanship is constructed during the initial songs, and the standard isn't dropped through the course of the album. 

Songs from a Mean Season is a very encouraging listen for this music critic. While the instrumental genre becomes increasingly focused on strikingly "poppy" flair (quiet/loud, plethora of guitar effects, synths, etc...) or a counter to that movement (minimalist, dirty, acoustic, earthy,...), Tulsa Drone travel the middle road that is rarely taken (Six Parts Seven comes to mind). A valid critique to launch at this approach is that it avoids extremes, lends itself to predictability, and maybe even falls into the category of background music. The latter two arguments are easily rendered null and void simply by listening to the album -- it is strangely engaging and captivating, made all the more so by the vocal tracks -- and the former is proven to be a means to an end utilized by many, many bands looking for a quick out. And this is what sets Songs from a Mean Season apart from the crowd.