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Leonard Mynx – Le Petit Mort

contributor: Ed Thanhouser, January 25, 2010

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Le Petit Mort, “the little death,” otherwise known as the orgasm, is now also a self-released album from raspy troubadour, Leonard Mynx. Ecstasy and death have always been intimately acquainted, and Mynx skillfully intertwines these two themes during the course of 8 tracks plucked from the sessions for his upcoming LP, Son of the Famous So-and-So. Mynx has always been something of an enigmatic presence in Portland music. On first listen, his songs, though masterfully executed, often appear to be simply shiny, well-constructed pop and folk tunes. In short, pleasant but innocuous. Listen a second time, however, and you start to detect a seething, crumbling despair bubbling over the sides of each track. Mynx’s deadpan flat delivery wants to whisper each word in your ear like a 2 am crack dealer, appearing just over one shoulder, hurriedly offering a fix. And true to the simile, once you start catching those nearly-swallowed lyrics, you’re as hooked as any crackhead. “Miss You,” a haunting duet with Catherine Odell, nearly brings me to tears every time when Mynx sighs, “…I would just run again/but lately my legs aren’t working so well/and I feel like hell/can’t you tell/that I’ve grown old… and I regret the things I didn’t do/’cause I miss you.” By the same token, “Jamaican Song,” with it’s jaunty, upbeat bassline and sunny melody, tells the tale of a man helplessly watching his lover sink into alienated depression. Misery, lonesomeness, broken-down blues and plain old sadness- these are Mynx’s bread and butter, and even in a mere 8 tracks, we have here a veritable feast.

Musically, Mynx is a considerable talent, and one hell of a guitar player. His band and guests are likewise gifted. It’s something of a pity, then, that musically, Mynx’s composition on Le Petit Mort tends to be more backdrop than centerpiece. Mynx’s musical influences are sometimes so plainly visible that they often feel like he’s simply replaced the lyrics of a classic with his own. To illustrate, try singing “I rolled into Nazareth, I was feelin’ bout a half-past dead…” over the opening lines of “Sing Radio.” Mynx’s track may be a beautiful song with fine lyrics, but the resemblance to The Band’s hit is uncanny. Likewise, “Bones,” with its fabulously drunken horn section, feels something like a trussed up Tom Waits cover… replete with carny characters and villains like “Mustache Pete” and “The Chairman.” But perhaps the most obvious example is “Song With No Name,” which you might actually mistake for a Dylan track someday with your iPod on shuffle. So is all this a bad thing? Hardly. For all it’s obvious references, Le Petit Mort ends up feeling comfortable and familiar rather than plagiarized or stale. It helps that the record is recorded beautifully. The time Mynx has spent at Type Foundry with renowned producer/musician Adam Selzer has been well spent indeed. Especially when compared to his last release, 2008’s Vesper, it’s clear that Mynx’s songwriting has come a long way in a short time. And if these songs are an indication of what Son of the Famous So-and-So will sound like, we can expect some truly great things from Leonard Mynx.

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Leonard Mynx – Vesper

contributor: Hoyt Emerson – May 16, 2009

“I was born in a ghost town, the year of the landslide.  In a hotel room beside a funeral pyre.”

The quote above is the opening line to the literary noir of Leonard Mynx’s Vesper.  It’s a bit of a downer, but don’t let that stop you from listening.  A transcendent album of subdued pain and enigmatic troubles, Vesper disguises it’s cryptic dysfunction with folk rock lullabies.  Within those hieroglyphic arrangements is a story unfolding one song at a time.  Within each, Mynx interchanges from narrative to first person, allowing a self reflective analysis as well as being a cathartic storyteller.  “Mary” starts to exemplify his narrative skills [Mary quit school and decided she'd take a train out west/she was eager to see some skies beyond her broken home] as this character finally seeks out to redefine herself, only to discover that she is still looking for something she cannot find [In the castles down on the boulevard, the pretty people toast/on a corner far from the rich folks yard, Mary gave a rose to a ghost].  Ultimately the protagonist makes a fatal mistake in life and her remains are found later.  This type of tragedy is a consistent highlight of Mynx’s writing.  “House on the Hill” returns to a first person reflection, musically chugging along with an organ drenched slow 6/4 and contemplating the need to realize what life is about.  Surprising subject matter follows on “Horse”, a heroin fueled country ballad a la Kris Kristoferson.  Adam Selzer’s production begins to show here with more atonal instrumentation and trademark reverb to complement the feel of a drug bender.

To say that Vesper is a lyric-centric album is an understatement.  Mynx has an articulate knack for good storytelling.  Much like Springsteen’s Nebraska, he employs dark Americana to define himself amongst the tidal wave of folk singers in the Northwest.  Songs like “Northwest Passage” and  “Valley of Sickness and Death” are very pastoral, catchy and reflective much like the aforementioned Springsteen album.  His consistent use of slow tempo through the album allows the listener to actually pay more attention to the words.  This will, ultimately, be the underrated triumph of Vesper.  Because within each slow tempo lies fantastic lyrical imagery.  Possibly none more than the war hero ballad “Robert”.  A truly moving lyrical anthem, this 9:24 epic takes a personal, poetic stance on current geo political issues from a brother’s viewpoint in reference to his war bound sibling.  Mynx delivers a movie scene of a town’s response to their local hero and the anxiety and fear that comes with such a sacrifice like war.  Without being political at all, Leonard personalizes the hardships from a family’s viewpoint [we used to play guns when we were just kids/I'd say I hit him and he say "I missed"/I just hope his luck keeps up like this and Robert makes it home].  Even when we find out the sad, tragic truth that the brother’s fears have come true, Mynx’s delivery stays dispassionate.  His voice simply a vessel for the message, the listener is able to return the emotion.  Even as the narrator watches his brother buried he hopes to see him again in afterlife and empathizes with people still involved in the war, wishing it were over [and I'm thinking of the reason I'll never see him again/I hope it was worth it and I hope this war ends].  Make no mistake, taken the time to really listen to this song, it is a true masterpiece.

You find yourself a little at odds on how to digest Vesper .  While this is a record that can be played in the background and enjoyed, you miss out on the main characteristic of Mynx’s intent.  That being, specifically, to paint with lyrics and not necessarily music.  That mentality is an instant defining quality for Leonard, however, he will challenge the listener to commit to it.  It will be up to the listener to attend to the words closely, but Vesper will reward that commitment.  While many albums today are more lyrically stark and choose arrangements that will make us move, Leonard Mynx is a rare breed that has taken a chance that music is still about documenting life and not just about parties.  Vesper is a gem, not only because we need good music, but because we need good stories.