All hype, no bite
- My Morning Jacket - Z
- Kentucky alt-rock band's new release is the apple of critics' eyes, but it's their 2003 effort that should be lauded.
The brisk Hawaiian Trade Winds swept a sweet-smelling mixture of coconut tanning oil and indigenous jasmine across the balcony of the Westin Maui hotel as I relaxed seven floors above paradise. The December sun, brighter and warmer than any summer orb of the Northeast, blazed down on my face and ignited within me a contentedness I had not felt in months, if not years. Slouching deeper into the reclining chair as the afternoon whiled away, I took a deep breath of the aromatic air and reached for the perspiring glass accompanying me and wondered how a moment like this could get any better. As I took a sip of the Mai Tai, it occurred to me that the poolside din just below – children hollering, man-made waterfalls crashing, dishes and cutlery clanging together at the outdoor bar and grille – was a slight distraction from the surrealism unfurling before me.
Music, I thought. It was the perfect time for music.
Having downloaded a bunch of new tunes to my iPod before heading off on holiday, I knew there would be some down time to listen to them during my travels. And what better time than now to drown out the white noise of vacationing wayfarers with the soothing Dixie-rock style of My Morning Jacket?
With the trademark white Apple headphones nestled snuggly into the crevices of my ear, I began my journey of the Louisville-based band’s fourth album, Z, with as much vigor as I began my vacation. After all, I hadn’t had a real one since my Hawaiian honeymoon in 2003, the same year MMJ put out their last album, the spectacular It Still Moves, and I was anxious to see if both the band and Pacific island getaway were up to the challenges of topping themselves.
Unfortunately, both fell a bit short, which is no insinuation that either was bad. But instead of comparing and paralleling the details of a vacation with that of a CD review, I’ll just try and focus on why I think Z, though enjoyable and worthy, is an inferior record to its predecessor.
The hype surrounding Z has been incredible. David Fricke of Rolling Stone magazine writes: “America is a lot closer to getting its Radiohead and it isn’t Wilco.” Others are hailing the album as an instant classic and the band is finding its latest release in the top five of most critics’ best CDs of 2005. Pretty convincing and founded evidence that MMJ has, indeed, put out what many people are calling a career-defining record.
But if It Still Moves is a lesser album than Z, then Sgt. Peppers’ might as well take a back seat to Yellow Submarine in the illustrious recording annals of classic Beatles lore. So unless MMJ’s latest is one of those albums that grows on you like toenail fungus, all the raves surrounding Z just don’t add up – it’s really not that great an album.
Part of what I believe has impressed critics regarding Z is MMJ’s growth and willingness to experiment with their sound. Where once there were heaps of countrified slide guitars and twangy southern rhythms, now give way to an overproduced, poppy synth-infused sound geared more for the mainstream than the loyalist. With songs like “Wordless Chorus” – a danceable ditty with a bouncy, percussive bass line you’d sooner hear at a techno club than at a dingy live rock venue – and the ready-for-pop-radio choruses of “Off the Record,” it’s easy to see why. (Play the latter several times while throwing back a few cold ones and tell me you don’t hear the long-awaited follow-up to Hanson’s Mmm-Bop in there. Scary.) Both songs, though catchy and fun and seemingly engineered for radio airplay, are not true to their Dixie roots and are more synonymous with “selling out” than with pushing musical boundaries.
And there’s nothing wrong with that, I guess. After many years flying under the mainstream radar, MMJ has earned the right to branch out to a wider audience in an effort to secure a slice of fame’s coveted pie. But to say Z is the band’s best work to date might as well be an admission that you’ve never truly listened to It Still Moves.
With fetching classics like “Mahgeetah,” “Golden” and “One Big Holiday,” the Kentucky rockers had already achieved with It Still Moves the type of praise and accolades that are extremely hard to come by: success without the benefit of widespread exposure. And they did that without having to abandon their roots, a tribute to a blue-collar diligence that focused on the music more than what could be gained from it.
That’s not to say that the current release isn’t good, because it is. Very good, even, at times. “Anytime” may be the best rocking tune the band has ever released, employing all the elements that make it one of the most promising country alternative bands to come around in a while. Singer/guitarist Jim James is at his very best, channeling Paul Westerberg while belting out a lyric so desperate and raspy you almost expect his voice to break under the pressure. “How Could I Know,” Z’s closing number and the most soulful on the album, is drenched in vocal reverb and succulent portions of slide guitars lending itself to one of the more beautiful-sounding tracks on the disc. And “Gideon” is just a great song, period.
But most of the album – including “Off the Record” and “Wordless Chorus” – seem a bit muddled and out of place. “What A Wonderful Man,” with its punchy, full band choruses and slight 2:25 running time, sounds more like a ‘60s surf-rock reject than a modern-day rock and roll ode. (Yes, that’s not a misprint, 2 minutes and 25 seconds! I thought this was MMJ, not Green Day.) And “Into the Woods,” though cleverly written (A kitten on fire/A baby in a blender/Both sound as sweet/As a night of surrender), relies too much on non-music sampling and a corny carnival-like keyboard rhythm.
Which leads me to “Dondante,” a droning and overlong snooze-fest whose depth of boredom I still cannot fathom (running time: 8:02, but feels a lot longer). If anything, it’s this type of song craft – the extended jam – that should define and separate bands like MMJ from the mundane masses, not unite them. Given that “I Will Sing You Songs” (running time: 9:18, but leaves you craving more) from It Still Moves is one of my all-time favorite songs in history, “Dondante” is where I feel Z fails most miserably. It is by far the record’s most glaring setback.
Though Z is by no stretch of the imagination a poor effort, it’s nowhere close to being on par with its predecessor. All the growth and experimentation and production that went into this record yielded just a decent listen, with a glimmer of flair here and there. And when compared to the rave ink surrounding it and coupled with the fact that It Still Moves never garnered half the kudos, it winds up being a minor disappointment.
December 13th, 2005 at 8:42 pm
i agree with your dubbing the album “all hype, no bite” but i never really like my morning jacket very much.
December 15th, 2005 at 7:45 pm
I agree totally. I wrote a scathing negative review of the band at Z