The real-life Sam Winch is a struggling Los Angeles actor turned singer-songwriter and investment adviser from Appleton, Wisconsin. Sam Winch’s debut disc, The Lullabadeer, is a concept album about his fictional alter ego, who was born in a bowling alley and eventually wound up running away to the circus, after which a complicated story emerges involving clowns and ukuleles.
You don’t need to understand the particulars to appreciate The Lullabadeer, one of the year’s sweetest, weirdest debuts. A rusted hull of an album that seems to draw heavily from both John Irving (the wry, luckless protagonist, the whole circus thing) and Tom Waits (its garrulous vocals, fondness for trombones, and just about everything else), The Lullabadeer is that tricky combination of rollicking and sad.
Winch may have arrived at his profession a little late (he’s 35), but, perhaps as a result, The Lullabadeer feels more fully formed than most debuts, if less efficient. Divided mostly between straightforward rock songs and woozy, horn-heavy folk tracks (with pianos and megaphones and the occasional ballad thrown in), it’s occasionally thrilling but mostly uneventful. He has more of an interest in the ephemera of everyday life — stalled relationships, bar fights — than his exotic big-top backdrop might suggest, and a pointillist’s eye for detail. He’s learned early on that it’s not just the story you have to tell; it’s how you tell it that counts.
