Tucker Zimmerman Dances With Love, Backed By Big Thief
The poet and singer-songwriter is set to release his 11th studio album with the indie rock band. 'Dance of Love' is full of heart, laughter and breezy folk tunes.
Poet and singer-songwriter Tucker Zimmerman was dubbed “too qualified for folk” by David Bowie in the early 2000s. Despite the hearty shout out, Zimmerman has maintained his obscurity throughout his 60+ year career. But with the release of his 11th studio album, Dance of Love, out Friday via 4AD, he’s garnered attention thanks to a backing band of indie-folk rockers called Big Thief.
And I’ll admit the band’s the reason I was drawn to listening Zimmerman’s first single off the record, Burial At Sea, when it came out in August. For nearly 10 years, Big Thief has brought folk-centered rock music to the forefront of the indie scene. They’re lyrical geniuses in their own right. So, I certainly check out whatever they have their hands on. I’m sure most other modern folk lovers do as well.
In Burial At Sea, lively percussion walks the listener into Zimmerman’s storytelling. His vocals fold in beautifully with Big Thief’s Adrianne Lenker. Her pitch maintains an intimate mezzo-soprano range as Zimmerman’s aging voice falls on you like warm rain. It’s toasty and rigid, coating you in comfort. The song has a hold on me, dancing along the shoreline of my mind, kicking up sand and memories.
Dance of Love is a mystical, airy folk record that uses plucked strings, percussive tambourine, hi-hat hits, woodwinds, natural sounds of rain falling and thunder roaring, and even keeps in the adlibs that come with recording music—laughter, hollering and bits of dialogue. You can hear the rattled shake that comes with singing your heart out, and the breaths and sighs of releasing the song. It’s a collection of recordings that place you in the room with them as they flow from song to song.
Belgium-based Zimmerman came back to the states to collaborate with Big Thief, just after releasing his 10th album I Wonder If I’ll Ever Come True in May of this year. Zimmerman’s fantastical and poetic lyricism was brought to life here with the vivid dynamics of Big Thief’s instrumentation—plus other collaborators including Mat Davidson and Zach Burba.
Zimmerman began his career in the ’60s, studying theory and fundamentals at hometown San Francisco city and state colleges, making classical sonatas and popular jazz. He then relocated to Rome under a Fullbright Scholarship and studied under famous Italian composer Goffredo Petrassi. He picked up a guitar and translated his poetry into 300+ songs.
In London, Zimmerman met Tony Visconti and became one of the first artists Visconti produced before going on to work with The Moody Blues and David Bowie, among many others. But it was in Belgium where Zimmerman thrived and where he’d write and perform his handful of albums.
He has an expert understanding of the weight instruments hold in how a song is felt and conveyed. He uses only what he feels the song needs. In the album opener, Old Folks in Farmersville, vocals are the main instrument, complemented with acoustic guitar and soft percussion. Lenker delays her vocals the slightest bit, so they don’t fully match up with Zimmerman’s, creating a spacial sound that echos throughout your mind.
A poet first and foremost, Zimmerman delicately links one word with one another, developing deep and imaginative meaning. Here’s a bit of The Seasons:
It’s the season / when the leaves are dancing round like butterflies / and it’s timeless / the clocks are going crazy telling lies / and the sun is closing his eyes / and there’s a crossroad moon on the rise / and the sky has turned electric blue / it’s the season / when all the dreams of your dream come true
While Dance of Love is a carefully thought-out collection of songs that bleed into one another, Zimmerman doesn’t fall into a repetitive habit of sound. Toward the end of the album on Leave It On The Porch Outside, we hear Zimmerman’s wife, Marie Claire, taking lead on vocals, and her voice is one meant for fantastical children’s tunes, expressing each emotion with urgency as she lets her vowels rise and fall.
On the third verse, you can hear Claire pause after forgetting the words for a moment—something they left in because it gives the another dimensional layer. It’s not meant to be overly produced or perfectly crafted. It’s supposed to sound like you’re on the porch outside. You can hear the joy they had recording it, making you laugh along with them.
The transition from that song into The Ram-a-lama-ding-dong Song is fluid, silly and full of energy. In comes a kazoo. Then a bellowing obnoxious tuba makes an appearance. The lyrics are goofy and don’t take themselves seriously, developing a layer of humanity and child-like joy—which can have just as much meaning as those serious poetic lines. The song ends in laughter at what they just made.
Don’t Go Crazy (Go In Peace) brings the energy down with a smooth acoustic ballad, as the sound of pouring rain builds in the background. The song is like a meditation of sorts, lulling you back to peace and utter calmness. It makes me wonder how much time Zimmerman spent with Big Thief recording the album. Songs like this display a level of emotional intimacy that’s difficult to recreate with just anyone. I wonder what the band learned from him, or what he learned from them. This special collaboration crosses generations of musicians.
In an uplifting tone, Nobody Knows closes out the album with a bluesy folk tune reminiscent of Bob Dylan’s early work—tiptoeing on the line of outlaw country. A reassuring statement: Nobody knows what’s gonna happen next. And that’s what’s beautiful about living this life. The song brings to life Zimmerman’s ever-growing imagination and inner reflection. The energy just keeps building, building, building as the song rolls on.
Dance of Love is special. It speaks to Zimmerman’s heartfelt balance of boot-stomping and meditations, filled with meaningful relationships, love, experience, lessons, reflection. And it might just be what brings him to critical acclaim at 83 years old.
Start with Burial At Sea and you might notice how Zimmerman’s voice swirls in harmony with Lenker’s, who have two very distinct pitches.
Pay attention to the mystical story they sing of a message in a bottle washing up on shore. It flows like a fiction, but the lyrics parallel Zimmerman’s own life.
Kendall Polidori is The Rockhound, Luckbox’s resident rock critic. Follow her reviews on Instagram and X @rockhoundlb, TikTok @rockhoundkp
