In 1986, I was introduced to the concept of the liar paradox via Jim Henson’s fantasy movie Labyrinth. You probably remember the scene: Sarah ends up face-to-face with a pair of two-headed knights who are guarding a set of doors. One is the door she needs to go through, and the other will lead to some kind of untoward fate. The guards tell her one of them always lies, and one always tells the truth. She is allowed to ask one question to one of the knights and must use the knight’s answer to figure out which is which. Only then will she be allowed through the right door so she can save her little brother from David Bowie dressed in disturbingly revealing grey tights.
Listening to the lyrical onslaught of Sam Swinson, I'm reminded of this paradox. Swinson is the co-leader/songwriter, along with Adam Pressley, of the Normal, Illinois indie folk collective that is Ohtis. That the pair call Normal their home could not be more fitting. If This Country Had A Heart... was certainly born from the minds of two young men who recognize they don’t know or care what the hell normal even means. Their sound is irresistibly listenable and catchy. Joined by a throng of guest players, Swinson and Pressley’s musical vision comes to life with jubilant bursts of harmonized background “ohhs and ahhs,” soaring string arrangements, and furiously strummed guitar lines driving the whole thing home. Think Paul Simon putting his spin on late-’70s-era Talking Heads backed by a commune of accomplished hippie musicians and you’re getting close.
Intertwined in all that musical goodness is Swinson’s writing, which gives us an abstract glance into the mind of a deep thinker with a sharp, wry wit. A stark confliction over Christianity dominates the album, evident on several tracks, but none more than “American Christians,” a seemingly innocuous, harmony-filled folk ditty reminiscent of early Simon and Garfunkel. But the lyrics point to a darker perspective than the sunny tune might otherwise suggest: “If half the world will never hear his precious name/ And you truly believe Christ condemns them all the same/ Well Americans, Christians/ You are the ones to blame.” Presenting a man looking for ways to exist in a society rife with paradoxes, Swinson uses Ohtis as a vehicle to shed light on the absurdities of the human condition. That he airs his conflictions by enveloping them in exceptionally smart, bright, and well-constructed folk melodies and arrangements is (one hopes) therapeutic for him, and even better for us.
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