By now I think I’ve made it clear that I’m a sucker for sad songs and waltzes. In fact, I’m fairly sure I’ve made it clear that I’ve made it clear beforehand as well. I’ll therefore take this moment to impart that I’m also a fan of symmetry, especially concerning music. While there aren’t set structures musicians follow when it comes to arranging albums, certain presumptions inevitably linger in the back of peoples’ minds. Most artists don’t want to start with a downer; most artists don’t want to end with a barrage of noise. Such is the way of the world. And while there’s more to write about the start/end of an album than its loudness/quietness, respectively, sometimes a piece needs to be painted with broad strokes.

Of interest to me are the Cores which possess immunity to said structural assumption. What Cores? I’m certain you’re as familiar with them as I am. They huddle in alleyways, spasm on street corners, and holler from rooftops. They’re the scoffed at and ridiculed classes falling under the umbrella of genres-we-made-up-when-we-were-bored-but-aren’t-really-genres of Sad/Slowcore, Glitchcore, Emocore, and—my personal favorite—Cuddlecore.

Of course, there exists a plethora of other Cores out there; new ones crop up every day, for sure. My point is, despite their differences, Core groups frequently have this opportunity for symmetry in common. We hear Cat Power’s You Are Free start with “I Don’t Blame You” and end with “Evolution,” and we accept that everything is in its right (wrong?) place.

A similar possibility exists for those singer/songwriters we’re at a loss to categorize as anything other than “singer/songwriters.”

For all the things Chris Garneau’s Music for Tourists isn’t, at least its ends are balanced. Garneau’s opener, “Castle-Time,” is a lovely waltz, a whimpering, “My teacher died / Even the frying pan cried” kind of waltz whose hiccups one readily forgives in an attempt to keep the song from bursting into tears. However, I admit my thoughts wander toward his previous lyric and begin “looking for an exit sign” when halfway through the track Garneau repeatedly sings, “Let’s cry about it / Let’s cry about it” in an uncomfortably forward act of direction.

It’s his first LP, though. What can one expect?

By the end of the album the answer becomes readily apparent: One can expect a newcomer not to massacre one of the most arguably beautiful and sincere waltzes written within the past two decades, Elliott Smith’s “Between the Bars.”

For the record, I can’t write about Elliott Smith (a matter for another entry). I can say that what tribute “Castle-Time” pays to “Between the Bars” Garneau annuls with his closing cover.

Nevertheless, “Castle-Time” is still worth hearing, still worth writing about. Music for Tourists is still worth listening to, still worth jabbing. I won’t cry about it, but let’s face it: almost any person with a string section, a piano, and a delicately cracked voice (the hardest of the three to possess) is going to attract a crowd; throw in a knowledge of minor chords and an earnest disposition and the audience is almost guaranteed.

All that’s left is to wow them in the end, Chris. Let them know who you are, but don’t remind them whom you aren’t.

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