San Francisco Bay Guardian
February 21, 2001
Green Hills of Earth
(Future Farmer)
By Ali Neff
The
Mother Hips – firmly rooted in the fertile California soil –
produce pop that's been washed lovingly in the native sand,
surf, and sunshine. The Chico-bred band's new album offers music
as sweet and substantial as a fresh-picked Valencia. The songwriting
is masterful, the production complex (both are crafts that they've
developed over nearly a decade of all-for-one creativity and
vigorous touring) – it's no wonder the band has grown so well
together. The
collective spirit and strength is evident throughout, as the album explores
a series of particularly West Coast emotions. Green Hills of Earth begins
with a minute-long plea for inner calm, then pulls the listener through
a tricky cycle of youthful exuberance and romantic disappointment. In
the White Album-esque finale, "Seaward Son," the protagonist exhausts
his lyrical testimony with a tired wish to sail far, far away.
The
Hips create remarkable dramatic tension by way of seamless production
techniques seemingly picked up in Brian Wilson's backyard. They spent
ample time in the studio creating the album's dreamlike effect, and
the results highlight a facet of the Hips' sensibilities not so evident
on their previous more straightforward, roots-rocking releases. Still,
they haven't shaken their alt-country leanings. They combine Gram Parsons-style
lyrical wistfulness and orchestral luster on Green Hills' shiniest pop
gem, "Sarah Bellum."