Fire-and-brimstone rock

In the realm of musical biblical conviction, Woven Hand founder and guiding light David Eugene Edwards may at times invoke strains of Bob Dylan and Johnny Cash. But it's unlikely you'll ever hear any of Edwards' tunes played at the Grand Ol' Opry. Even though his lyrics share themes of apocalypse and redemption with the best of country and folk songwriters, his band Woven Hand takes its cues from more devilish sources.

Sure, the occasional finely wrought banjo and acoustic guitar finger-picking on the group's six CDs help establish Woven Hand's rightful claim to Americana roots. But the dynamics of the music, drawn from the proto-metal of bands like Motörhead and Led Zeppelin, mixed with a dramatic touch taken from Joy Division, is what makes Woven Hand's winged rock 'n' roll chariot fly.

The group's origins can be traced to 16 Horsepower, a band Edwards formed in L.A. during 1992, though a closer point of reference is legendary Gun Club founder Jeffrey Lee Pierce. Pierce emerged in the late '70s and continued into '90s as a post-punk artist known for intense exorcism-in-progress vocals, loud lyrical guitar work and a unique spin on rustic blues. Fittingly, Edwards, Lydia Lunch, Mark Lanegan, Mick Harvey and Nick Cave can be heard paying homage to Pierce on the recent tribute CD We Are Only Riders (on Germany's Glitterhouse label).

Talking about Pierce from his Denver, Colorado home, Edwards tells The Prague Post, "His sound was some of the first [rock] music I heard that I really related to. Pierce's combination of folk, traditional Americana and American Indian music is all what I've been a part of, so I was really taken with the music."

Edwards' six-minute interpretation of Pierce's "Just Like a Mexican Love" (with Crippled Black Phoenix on The Jeffrey Lee Pierce Sessions Project on Glitterhouse) may do justice to Pierce's legacy, but it's a light touch compared to Woven Hand's new release, The Threshing Floor (also on Glitterhouse).

That's in keeping with the band's development toward a heavier sound ever since its eponymous 2002 debut. "There is an urgency, as I believe there is with most of the work that we have done, that I believe is a bit more amplified on Threshing Floor," Edwards says. "I just see Scripture being fulfilled before my very eyes. I'm at times overwhelmed by it, though also encouraged by it."

Expressing this drive, Woven Hand's ambitious arrangements often take on the epic torque of Led Zeppelin's "Achilles' Last Stand." mixed with imagery from the prophetic books of Isaiah and Ezekiel. The music also has elements of earthy lyrical spirits gathered in Edwards' childhood wanderings of Colorado's own promised land. Speaking of the American landscape resonating in his work, Edwards recalls, "I spent a lot of time in the countryside searching for Indian artifacts and finding all kinds of things, from arrowheads to pieces of bone. As a child, finding these things was wild and had a very big effect on me."

These imprints of Indian chant, L.A. Post-punk, psychobilly and pioneer Protestant funeral dirges are all part of the florid fabric of Woven Hand. Yet steering the band closer to Jerusalem are Middle Eastern influences drawn from both music and literature.

"On the new record, I play a lute from Crete that I bought in Istanbul," Edwards says. "I just fell in love with the instrument instantly, while playing it in a shop, and wrote the song 'Orchard Gate' on the new album within a few hours of buying the instrument. I also play the saz, another Turkish instrument. I won't be able to bring these instruments [on the current tour]; it's just too difficult to carry them. So I've transposed those parts to my normal setup."

While the lack of acoustic instruments will make Woven Hand's show at Akropolis next week less of a feast for those who prefer their Americana unplugged, the full force of the electric touring lineup should provide a vivid demonstration of why the BBC once called Woven Hand "raw, uncompromising and visionary."

Darrell Jónsson can be reached at
features@praguepost.com