By August Edwards
Destination, the latest album from Radio Free ABQ, distorted my sense of time and space. It has something to do with feeling far from home yet being home all along. There is tender familiarity pulsing through each song—rushing through me like air, breathing with me. The stories told within the album struck me as profound, firing missiles of poignancy and surprise. And surprise is what I’m looking for in new music.
The album is a spectacular orchestral achievement, vibrant and hardy, meditative in a cyclic way. Their very band name, Radio Free ABQ, makes a sort of big promise—maybe that they present the motley sound of the city. With an eclectic assembly of instruments and a strong theme of community, I think Destination gets close to delivering on their promise.
In 2021 Dave Purcell moved to Albuquerque and formed Radio Free ABQ; he garnered support from musicians in established, loved ABQ bands such as Dust City Opera and High Desert Playboys. The recordings on this album feature Purcell on drums, lead vocals, and guitar, Ryan Goodhue (keyboards, accordion, backing vocals), Travis Rourk (trombone, synth, guitar, backing vocals), and Scott Brewer (bass, backing vocals). Guests Brian Lovely and Mike Fair also contribute on lead and rhythm guitars.
“Tito (Far Away, Not Lonely),” which commences the listening journey, features squealin synths over an elastic rhythm. Tendrils of this band unfurl to recognizable sounds; reminiscent of Bob Dylan’s voice and David Bowie’s voice (including a sort of lyrical nod to “Space Oddity”). To this Weezer fan, Purcell’s voice sounds like Brian’s Bell’s (which I became very familiar with one summer when I listened to the two albums from his side project—The Relationship—on repeat). I don’t think Purcell was trying to sound like Brian Bell, but I think it speaks to a strength of this album: It is going to draw in the listener with intentional and unintentional intimacy.
This quality is not only sonic; Purcell also weaves allusions into his lyrics. Destination is a very literate album. The mention Don Quixote in “Playing for Keeps” references Picasso’s painting of Don Quixote. The lyrics in in “Peligro En La Demora,” a dramatic, swingy track, are inspired by Paul Theroux’s book On the Plane of Snakes. “End of the World” mentions Ginsberg and Kerouac in a successful effort to create an atmosphere of gathering companions.
My favorite track on Destination is “Before It’s Gone,” an absorbing party song with tinges of grief. The congenial accordion marries the riotous trombone, together they float over the snappish, almost contentious drumbeat, making for a celebratory parade. It contains a sorrowful message, but tromps forth, staunch and proud. The lyrics tell the tale of an artist beseeching remembrance. Purcell confirms it is an homage to the writer Robert Lowry.
“Wolves, Louder,” the first instrumental track on Destination, marks the end of side A, and opens the door for what Purcell explains to be a more exploratory side B. That quality is visceral. I love that the album is bolstered by slinky, cool instrumental tracks—it’s like being psychically transported.
Destination exhibits the worldly travels of Dave Purcell in sound, concept, and formula. Despite not being a world traveler, I find this conveyance relatable. I’ve moved a bunch, something like ten times in ten years through five states. Moving, like traveling, recontextualizes things you’ve already seen and experienced. Music does the same. While I would argue that music is not a universal language, it is an important form of communication. And judging by the jubilation of this album, I think Purcell and I would agree that music should supply that sort of unreserved dialogue, and, maybe above all, supply fun.
“Mojave Photo Booth,” the final track, does feel like the end of the movie, like homing; maybe a chirpy Brian Eno concept. It’s like this for a few minutes. And then comes the spoken word portion.
“You know, if I had one wish, I’d wish you were here.”
The striking recitation by Amy Purcell is rich and even-keeled, even reserved. So why am I crying? Does it make me remember listening to my friends read their poetry and prose at open mics? I must be missing my friends. I need to call my friends. And then I realize—it’s just a voicemail. Amy Purcell is leaving me a voicemail. And it makes me remember voice messages I’ll never hear again: my Grandpa Jake and Grandma Jo E singing me happy birthday; my Uncle Jamie singing “Good Morning to You” to my family, a song from the 1800s which I never heard before or since.
“Wish you were here” is the underlying premise of the album. This theme, wrapped in allusions and references, makes for a sentimental and heartfelt album. I wish you were here with me; I guess all I can do is describe my experiences best I can. I'll call you sometime. Destination shows the many ways we carry people and memories we love.
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