Empty chairs and empty tables

Empty Rooms

Canyon

Gern Blandsten

Washington, D.C.,…

Empty Rooms

Canyon

Gern Blandsten

Washington, D.C., has less than its share of country rock bands. It’s a town filled with punks, indie rockers, new wavers, and scenesters. D.C. bands rarely err on the side of sedation, normally preferring frenzied, hard-art dance jams.

Canyon, in that sense, wasn’t exactly destined for success when it formed in 1999, from former members of emo bands Boys Life and Farewell Bend. But with the recent insurgence and adoration of alternative country acts such as Wilco, Ryan Adams and Beachwood Sparks, and a newfound social fascination with American traditional music, such as the soundtrack to “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” this quintet has managed to find its niche within the scene.

Sounding like Neil Young a la Pink Floyd, Canyon takes on folk and psychedelia at once, constructing epic songs with rich tones and wailing vocals.

The band’s sophomore release, Empty Rooms, has a title that foreshadows its action. That is, its songs enter your head as though it were an empty room, and fill it with sounds that bounce off the walls of your brain, building sound-scapes with guitar, keyboards, harmonica, lap steel, horns, drums and echoing vocals.

Normally, mentioning an album is good to fall asleep to isn’t exactly complimentary, but Empty Rooms’ delicate, soothing rock can be sleep-inducing. That’s not to say that this record is dull. Each and every track is a pleasant listen.

Rooms is set of intimate and fragile songs with a dream-like presence, being quiet and loud, angry and apathetic, structured and unorganized, warm and eerie, and vague and precise, all at the same time. It’s about as artsy as albums get, but it’s also about as majestic and enrapturing as albums get. Look into Canyon’s Empty Rooms.