“It’s a Wonder we had Such a Good Season” is the debut release of Ben Joseph, the explosive corrosive force behind mellow island punks Exodus Over and local indie legends Art & Ransom. The album, which stretches on 2 CD’s, for nearly 100 minutes, features acoustic longings, electronic city-dweller-sun-in-your-eyes jams, Balkan-inspired accordion-driven waltzes, expansive string breaks, one awesome hardcore scream, and Beach Boys-esque backup vocal swells. (Say “backup vocal swells” ten times fast). These walls of sound lay the foundation for Joseph’s sarcastic, yet heartfelt and honest, lyrical style – a style that produces bitter, violent love songs, subtle reflections on the zeitgeist of American youth, and ironically emotional looks at the painfully overdramatic conflicts of adolescence. Born and raised on a small peninsula on the western edge of Emperor Norton’s United States, Ben Joseph, or Efrain Hyago Guillermo Navarro del Playa, as he is known in the more sparsely inhabited areas west of the bay, spent his childhood as a devoted student in the fine art of western popular music. Under the instruction of the mysterious fusion guru known as Ginsberg, he began to develop an affinity for performance, and formed multiple groups which have forged their way into local legend; among them: The Marx, The Damn Canadians, Ghosts in the Radio, Amusia, As Dead as Leaves, and many others. He began performing with Exodus Over and Art & Ransom, and made a name for himself among the pantheon of names that includes Hotel Barber, Trampolines! and Baltimore. He played in the shadows, recording tapes of covers and loosely written songs – basically screwing around with intensity. For years, only a select few could hear the songs; they were starting to form an identity for themselves, but they weren’t quite there. After extended stints in the studio and a record contract with Art & Ransom, his side project began to take wing. He recorded the precursor to “It’s a Wonder we had Such a Good Season” – “This is Not a Storm! Run to the Chapel!” which featured a small taste of the wonders to come. It was with this release that Joseph showed that he could make intimate, sappy, bitter, electronic driven songs, and gained a small following of friends and eager onlookers. Ask a select few people on the music scene in Tall Wood, they’ll tell you they heard “Frank Sinatra” or “Bob Zimmerman’s Dream” on that release before they were professionally mastered for “Such a Good Season” But the fight was merely beginning. An inward, tormented, cryptic Joseph emerged, a man possessed with completing his creation. He boarded his trusty horse, Lenny, and searched for miles for the perfect equipment to document his work. After shady dealings with reclusive nerds, poverty-stricken thieves, and studio engineers, he emerged with an M-Box and a G4. The dream was near. He locked himself in his garage, amid myriad instruments and the ghosts of a thousand songs, written and forgotten and remembered again. He used his school timpani, marimba, and orchestral percussion; he recorded his grandfather’s baby grand, his ex-girlfriend’s vibraphone, his uncle’s banjo, Herbie Hancock’s Moog. (That’s actually true.) He showed not a soul his final product, not until every last note was mastered to perfection by Christopher Scott Cooper. As his epic stint with Art & Ransom closed its first long chapter at the famed Stankin’ Rankin venue, Ben Joseph began the first chapter of his illustrious solo career in the form of a small set sandwiched between legendary performances by A&R and hardcore gods Breakdowns Forever. Backed by the brothers Moxley, Joseph introduced a quartet of songs from his soon-to-be-released album to an appreciative, vibrant crowd. “Ten thousand dollars that I’d never miss…I’d give it all gladly, if our lives could be like this” he declared with a sense of closure as the Moxleys pounded out the final notes of the set. A bittersweet goodbye was bid to the loving crowd. He disappeared the following morning. Joseph can now be spotted amid the canyons of the Great White City, training in his art, immersing himself in a whirlpool of new knowledge. He has vowed not to abandon his comrades back west, and is distributing his album worldwide. So what lies ahead for a man who started his career with an over-the-top, orchestral, soul-baring narrative of emotional irony usually reserved for disappointing sophomore releases? Be it money? Cars? Women? The spoils of fame and leisure, the washed up, pungent stare of a man seen to closely by the camera’s eye, sullied by an excess of dopamine? Troubling mental illnesses cured only by trips to the teepee in the sandbox and someone else’s string arrangements? We cannot know for sure. But for now, this album is the best I’ve got. I would appreciate it deeply if you would listen to it – I don’t care if you buy it or not. My only hope is that something on this album will mean something to you. If it does, don’t hesitate to let me know.