By Chris Nickson

While their hometown contemporaries were defining grunge, Seattle's Walkabouts followed their own path, finding cult fame in Europe with literate music influenced by folk and Americana. Their sound's gone through plenty of changes during their 18-year career, but Ended Up a Stranger is more than another stop on the way--it's their most ambitious statement to date. The songs are deep and rich, dressed up with some impressive string arrangements. Guitarist/singer Chris Eckman has become a subtle tunesmith, and his lyrics have moved away from Raymond Carver-esque storytelling to more abstract images, while Carla Torgerson's voice has developed a greater sensual urgency, all too evident on "Lazarus Heart" and "Radiant." Interestingly, for a band that's too long plowed its own furrow, a couple of songs seem to pay tribute to old heroes: "Life: the Movie" has more than a few touches of vintage Pink Floyd, while "See It in the Dark" could easily be mid-70's Bowie. Mostly, though, this is unmistakably Walkabouts, from the midnight ache of "Lest We Forget" to the slowburn intensity of the claustrophobic "Cul-de-Sac." As with much of their work, this album's a dark journey, but one well worth taking; there's no band quite like them in America, able to mix head and heart so perfectly.

By Richard A. Martin

Bands referred to as "cult favorites" or "underappreciated" are often merely of limited appeal, but not so the Walkabouts. Steady sellers in Europe, where they have thousands of devoted fans, here at home the Seattle-based duo of Chris Eckman and Carla Torgerson has to settle for respect among peers. That helps explain why the guest-musicians list on Ended Up a Stranger, the Walkabouts' first domestic release in a decade, includes members of Pearl Jam, Willard Grant Conspiracy, Madder Rose, Fountains of Wayne and the Posies. Eckman and Torgerson's latest batch of songs glimmers on its own; with help from their friends, the album reaches new heights in the Walkabouts' somewhat lofty career. The collection of players flit between dramatic chamber pop and folk with Torgerson on vocals, and a rootsy form of gothic with Eckman on the mic. The uptempo "Life: The Movie" and barroom-brawlin' "Cul de Sac" put him in the shadows with Nick Cave. Not every diversion works, but the Walkabouts' experimental tendencies are what've kept this band fascinating for years.

By Fred Mills

Seattle's finest Americana export, the Walkabouts, have a new release. The band's mesmerizing Ended Up a Stranger unfolds in mysterious fashion via the string-laden tango "Lazarus Heart," Carla Torgerson's bruised warble as pure-driven as ever. This time around, however, the group incorporates a plethora of textural surprises, including honking brass and groaning synths, making this its most diverse collection yet. As per tradition, guest stars turn up (among those on previous albums: Pete Buck and the Tindersticks); notably present are Matt Cameron (Pearl Jam) and Mary Lorson (Madder Rose).

By Tim Perlich

From the first string sweep, you're into another wide-screen noir epic of an album from Seattle's Walkabouts. Ended Up a Stranger's taut dramatic action concerning the trauma of loss and dislocation could very well be autobiographical for a group out of place and out of time. Fans of the darker ambitions of the Tindersticks, the Handsome Family and Lee Hazlewood will find the cinematic intrigue of Ended Up A Stranger oddly fascinating.

By David Peschek

Seattlites The Walkabouts, who've been misfits since their early days rubbing shoulders with the proto-grunge oiks of Sub Pop's late '80s roster, have never been fashionable, have suffered more than their fair share of bad luck with labels, and perhaps lost out simply because they were persistent and prolific without ever actually becoming particularly successful. Which is crazy, really: they have a primary songwriter (Chris Eckman) every bit the equal of, say, Nick Cave, and a primary singer (Carla Torgerson) whose garnet-hued voice drips with mournful sensuality. This is the thirteenth album in their 17-year career — and that's not including five Chris And Carla albums, one Chris Eckman solo record and four official bootlegs — and it's very likely the best.

Ended Up a Stranger is epic, a magnificent record of enormous warmth and bruising power; loosely, it might be called alt.country — actually, it shares a kinship with Cave, The Waterboys and long lost Australian heartbreakers The Triffids. These 13 songs range through love and loss and growing old with an elemental, dreamlike lyricism ('Your lazy body/Lyin' in the snow/A sparkle in the trees'-'Lest We Forget'); sometimes gently, insistently melodic (the shimmering beauty of 'Winslow Place'); sometimes brutal (the harrowing, heartbreaking title track's trip down memory lane; the self-laceration of the Eckman-sung `Cul-de-Sac').

It's too easy to forget a band who've always (if only in a small way) been part of the furniture. So think of Ended Up a Stranger as a deep, battered old chair with a view through an open window over rooftops, through a hundred other windows, into a hundred homes spread out beneath a big, full, lonely buttermilk moon.

Back to Reviews