The first word on Buck Meek’s new record, Two Saviors, is ‘pareidolia.’ It is a word about recognizing shapes where none were intended to exist— like searching for images in the clouds. It is an uncommon word, with a beautiful sound, and serves as an apt guide through these new songs of Buck’s, which are themselves uncommon and beautiful, and which invite a deep, cloud-gaze state of attention.
The record was made in Louisiana, but it is important to start with Texas. It is the hidden point of dilation that makes all of these songs cohere, gel, carbonate. Think about the Texas flag; one red stripe, one white stripe, a field of blue and the lone star— the base unit of the American formula.
We made this album in the Bywater neighborhood of New Orleans during the summertime, and it was hot, and the house we recorded in was a mansion, and it was on the corner of Royal and Desire. Paradoxical terms. Maybe contradictory. Trying to conjure an example of Royal Desire makes me nervous. It is the first image one sees in the cloud, the most obvious one, and seems to say something meaningful about the music. Though, maybe it is just distracting from the deeper picture.
There is almost no room for certainty on this album, which I consider a triumph. Also, I have yet to find a straight line or a right angle in the whole thing. Everyone who was involved in making it are at points on their respective paths where much is Known and skill-confidence is granted. Everyone knows how to play and still we were able to get very uncomfortable. And fragile. I think that Buck’s songs allowed us to go there, to get confused, get lost, get distracted by the weirdness of the stories.