Beck

Morning Phase

When you first heard “Loser” in 1994, did you think Beck was going to be one of the preeminent musical artists of the next 20 years? And even remotely capable of creating a record like his latest, Morning Phase? Yeah, me neither.

“Loser” was a fun, goofy song from a guy who looked like the kid brother of the recently deceased Kurt Cobain. His future could have easily consisted of rotting in a 90’s dustbin with Crash Test Dummies. Then we heard the rest of Mellow Gold. Along with Superunknown, Ill Communication and others, it would become one of the albums of that summer, soundtracking our lives and memories of that time.

We know what happened next. A series of stellar records, leading up to his psych-folk masterpiece, 2002’s Sea Change. More quality material followed. Beck’s musical universe was vast enough to include Prince, The Beatles, LL Cool J, Nick Drake, The Muppets, etc.

Morning Phase is Beck’s first album since 2008’s Modern Guilt. That’s an eternity for someone who was one of the most prolific artists of the last two decades. For those expecting the horny 20-something from 1999’s endearingly sleazy, electro-funk Midnite Vultures, who insisted that you could “touch my ass if you’re qualified,” the 40-something Beck doesn’t party like it’s 1999 anymore.

This is an older, wiser version of the guy from Sea Change, who just made his equivalent of Sinatra Sings For Only The Lonely. A string section is prominent throughout, his father, the composer/conductor David Richard Campbell, leading an orchestra that uses strings as instruments of beauty and intensity. It’s similar to the dynamic Scott Walker and Wally Stott had on 1969’s Scott 3.

“Cycle” announces Beck’s long-awaited return with a 30 second orchestral overture, then leading into “Morning.” For his first album in six years, he greets us with “Woke up this morning from a long night in the storm.” “Woke up this morning …” is a popular phrase used in blues songs, and that’s fitting. With its pristine production and harmonies, Morning Phase is blues in Technicolor.

Jazz legend Stanley Clarke plays upright bass on “Morning,” and contributes electric bass to “Heart is a Drum,” where Beck is credited with “sound collage.”  The droopy sonic effects go perfectly with the lyrics, “Your eyes get stung by the rays of a sinking sun.”

“Say Goodbye” could be Beck singing under Neil Young’s Harvest Moon, with its mid-tempo bluegrass bounce and banjo of Fats Kaplan. The Ringo Starr drums and orchestral backdrop on “Unforgiven” resemble one of John Lennon’s collaborations with Phil Spector, but with a hint of Walking Dead menace in the strings. There’s more where that came from on “Wave,” which is just Beck’s voice and strings, ending with him repeating the word “isolation.” “Country Down” is another Harvest-flavored tune with weepy pedal steel guitar, that asks the question “What’s the use in being found?”

Appropriate for an album consumed with solitude, the majestic closer, “Waking Light” has Beck accompanying himself with himself, performing an ethereal background vocal that sounds like Carl Wilson’s ghost. He leaves us with the words, “When the morning comes to meet you, fill your eyes with waking light.” A watery guitar solo mutates into swirling feedback, the pastoral baroque world we’ve spent time in coming to an abrupt conclusion.

The suddenness of how the record ends perhaps might signal the start of another phase for Beck. Whatever he decides to do next, Morning Phase is the sound of an artist entering a new golden age. And nobody does sea changes like Beck.

Originally published by DAEP Media. 

 

The Hold Steady

Teeth Dreams

The Hold Steady wear ambition well. Their latest album Teeth Dreams features songs that take place in bars and clubs, much like they’ve done in the past. The difference is they now sound powerful enough to reach the cheap seats in arenas, thanks in part to the addition of guitarist Steve Selvidge. When keyboardist Franz Nicolay left in 2010, he took his E Street piano stylings (and modern hipster-Rollie Fingers moustache) with him. His departure left a sonic void that Selvidge and longtime guitarist Tad Kubler fill with punchy riffs and leads that breath new life into the band.

“I Hope This Whole Thing Didn’t Frighten You” kicks off Teeth Dreams with an R.E.M. circa Life’s Rich Pageant thumping drums/guitar arpeggio combo. In keeping with their new wide-screen scope, these Brooklyn by way of Minnesota dudes see fit to include a chorus that’s more Barclays Center than Knitting Factory.

“Spinners” is about a woman who likes to go dancing in clubs by herself, drunkenly grooving to catchy rock tunes much like this one. But the words in this particular ditty describe the underlying darkness of this scenario. Singer/lyricist Craig Finn conveys how life can be simultaneously too long and too short with “The same guy buys another round to let her know he’s interested. The nights go on forever now, but the morning comes up quick.” It brilliantly combines the milieu from a Hopper painting with the poppy contagiousness of 80’s one-hit wonder Tommy Tutone’s “867-5309/Jenny.”

Teeth Dreams may be The Hold Steady’s most axe-heavy record, but it still doesn’t skimp on the ballads, containing perhaps three of their best. The first, “The Ambassador” has the memorable line “A Bay City tire shop. It’s just a temporary stop. A touchdown on a trip that was mostly undefined.” It’s as if Purgatory was a Stephen Shore 70’s road trip photograph.

“On With the Business” continues the theme of disappointment and dashed hopes with the first line to end all first lines; “I’m really sorry about that prick in the parking lot. I wanted this to be our year.” That could’ve been Albert Brooks in Lost In America, which would’ve made an apt alternate title for this record.

“Wait A While” is a microcosm of Teeth Dreams, an up-tempo rocker layering acoustic guitars on top of electric, making for an epic, classic rock feel. Back when rock’n’roll radio still had some sway over the mainstream, this was the kind of song that could define a summer.

“Almost Everything” is a pensive acoustic ballad akin to Chris Cornell’s immortal “Seasons” from the film Singles. Finn is like your old pal who pulls up a stool at the bar and tells you about how “The bus it rolled up into Franklin at dawn and everything seemed super slo-mo. The Waffle House waitress that asked us if we were Pink Floyd. Sat in the back of the theater just drinking and talking about movies and Krishna and hardcore and Jesus and joy.”

The album ends on a major high with the almost ten minute ballad “Oaks.” This could be a future encore, the kind that demands cell phone lights beaming from a swaying audience. It mixes Neil Young and Crazy Horse guitar thunder with the gentle strains of organ fading in and out, like the vanishing dreams of the people represented on this album.

The irony is, in depicting the diminished, lowered expectations of these burnt out characters, Teeth Dreams shows off a re-invigorated Hold Steady. They’ve never strived higher.

Originally published by DAEP Media.

http://daepnyc.com/culture/review-hold-steadys-teeth-dreams/