Tip Of The Sphere

Tip Of The Sphere represents McCombs' practised skill as a shaper of his own world, with pride in his craft, a deep respect for tradition and the drive to refresh it via his own, idiosyncratic iteration. [Mar 2019, p.18]

Tip of the Sphere again rejects easy definitions and expectations, growing and surprising with every listen.

McCombs’ lack of interest in easy interpretations endures and, if anything, prettifies, on this engrossing record.

Nine records and counting, McCombs is as magnetic and unmistakable as ever.

Tip of the Sphere is Cass McCombs’ most elegiac and profoundly literary album, a eulogy for the end of times and a mass articulation of the absurd world of modernity.

Though the album doesn’t really venture into new territory, the quality of songs on Tip of the Sphere maintain the same consistency of quality as his past albums. It is an album that is bound to please both diehard fans and newcomers alike.

Tip of the Sphere tackles generally what we’d expect it to--but with no disappointment, McCombs functions as a fail-safe narrator for our time. Within the LP’s musings, we as listeners look to him as he maintains a sense of worldliness and top-tier deftness as a songwriter and within those wonders and expectations, he invites us along as we get the chance to engage with his particular, introspective vision.

There are moments in early listens of the album when the attention begins to meander, only to be drawn back in by a lyrical quirk, or a sudden musical volte face, so that by the sixth roll about the turntable this seems a wholly differently textured record to when you began. [Mar 2019, p.121]

Tip of the Sphere's greatest riches, though, lie in McCombs' mystical, questing songcraft. [Mar 2019, p.88]

Despite its front-loaded tracklist and one song that sonically doesn’t fit (“American Canyon Sutra”), Tip of The Sphere is great for both the casually-interested listener or the seasoned listener looking for something to slowly melt into and later pick apart.

The album, a charmingly rough-edged collection of sincere alt-country rambles and experimental grooves, is less topical and lush than 2016's Mangy Love but contains more personality and continues McCombs' hot streak as America's best folk singer/songwriter.

In the face of so much uncertainty, it’s tempting to think that armageddon is the only answer. Whilst not standing toe-to-toe with the very best of McComb’s discography, Tip of the Sphere is as good a soundtrack to The End Times as anything he’s done.

When McCombs gets deep into his vision of the world, or maybe a liminal state between ours and his, he’s at his finest on Tip of the Sphere. He needs a lifeline, though, to keep him tethered enough to this one that neither he nor his audience wanders off. He hasn’t gone too far, but the steadiness works better than the spiraling as this disc goes ‘round.

It’s deceptively chill music that, like most of McCombs work, honors the past while steeling itself for the future.

While the album is his most musically rambling yet, with the exception of "American Canyon Sutra," there's no denying its elegant musicianship.

The production, arrangements and overall audio are beautifully crafted, McCombs’ askew concepts are, well... intriguing, and this hour long album is another impressive notch in the belt of a talented artist whose unusual, often offbeat approach is what makes him so distinctive, entrancing and appealing.

A record that never quite seems to find its feet, despite having a plethora of creative and interesting ideas.

He’s a unique talent, no doubt, and has once again made a work on his terms. It’s at times an exasperating listen, but that’s kind of the point.