A trilogy is completed with this effort, which follows Mark's paranoia of Hombre Lobo and sorrowful (excellent) End Times. This one, as you can imagine from normal storyteller lineage, is more of a rebirth. A rejection of the burdens that were carried by the men in the previous albums.
Just like me, your enjoyment of these albums will come if you enjoy classicist pop and rock structure; done largely by one man with a studio and the appreciation for simple gestures. Also just like me, you'll rank each release based on which of your moods dominates your definition of "self". I'm not just wasting words, I think it's important to point out before I make a blanket statement like "Tomorrow Morning is not as good as End Times". Because that's not true in any sense other than I relate more to the wallowing, blurry-eyed sad sack on End Times more than this new guy with the praise in his heart over the girl with the bearded-man tattoo.
The music on Tomorrow Morning is still very good. Mostly shiny electronic lightness (as opposed to the fuzz of Hombre and acoustics of End Times.) But E's voice is just as gruff and sincere as ever. The highlight is the sexiest Eels song ever, "This Is Where It Gets Good". Romantic and builds to a classic crescendo and even sticks around past the foreplay straight into some of the good stuff.
On the other hand, there's a couple of sappy or silly inclusions. The Baptist gospel-tinged "Looking Up" - which is too obvious an expression of rebirth than is needed for this collection. Also, the closer, "Mysteries Of Life" is a prime example of why you want women to keep leaving good artists. Because when they're so satisfied that they're singing full choruses of "La la la"s- you want to smack them like a clown that is acting alone. But those are minorities. Still a great bookend and a great ending to a tragic/warm/inspiring story. (4 of 5 stars)
I've never been a big fan of LaMontagne. While the overall feel on the songs generally paint that gruff warmth that I can usually get behind; I've also always been distracted by Ray's voice. Girls may love it, but I find it overly breathy, contrived, unnatural and way too far up in the mix. However, all that aside, I heard a new song that I liked on the radio and just, on a whim, decided to check out the album.
For a guy who apparently got into music after hearing Stephen Stills, this is probably the most Stills-ish thing he's released. Ray adds "Pariah Dogs" as a name for his backing band on this one, certainly to drum up visions of a southern style folk rock band. And it is. The opener "Repo Man" rocks more than anything else on the record. It's more expansive in sound than his almost-alonedebut. And nothing here touches upon his soul leanings that he took in follow ups.
After "Repo Man" wallows in some Grateful Dead style rave up jam, Ray kicks back and becomes a one-voiced version of CSNY. My favorite, the single, "Beg Steal Or Borrow" borrows heavily from "Old Man". Another highlight shows Ray singing about a relationship in the phase of separation and very cleverly relating it to the distance between "Rock & Roll And Radio".
And other than that, everything is a derivative of music of old. Nothing has originality, even the nuggets of creative lyrics. Which is okay. I appreciate interpreters as much as originators sometimes. And one day, Ray's going to break through with something really unique and blow everyone away. This isn't it, but it's perfect for your backyard beer-glossed bonfire. (3.5 of 5 stars)
But the songs though, are not following through. All of them follow a perfect rock pattern of verse-chorus-verse-chorus-solo-chorus-chorus. All the lyrics paint a a broad portrait of oppression, strength, power, darkness, struggle. All without really making a point about anything. He's definitely channelling Ozzy in both songwriting and throat work.
There are three ballads on the album that are a little more lyrically realized than the rockers. But again, they suffer from songwriting redundancy. Zakk'semotional output is clear, but I've heard him be more thoughtful than this before. All of this plus an excellent 50-second acoustic solo called "Chupacabra" leave us with an album that's "good"- but nothing you'll feel enticed to spin repeatedly. (3 of 5 stars)
Before your eyes roll and you get all ho-hum about another blogger espousing some magic bean fairy dust miracle savior baby praises upon the new Arcade Fire release, be aware of this: I never really cared about Arcade Fire. Hadn't really listened to them, but saw them on the late night shows and thought: okay, sure, whatever. Usually, I do that, and the darlings in question leave the door the arrived in. (I'm looking at you, Vampire Weekend). But since Arcade Fire seems to just be getting bigger, I'll try again. When I've made these value re-judgements in the past with Beck and Radiohead, I was pleasantly surprised. So...
I still really don't care about them. I can certainly appreciate the conceptual theme of youth reminiscing in the calm safety away from a city, where cops have nothing better to do than to shine lights in curious kids' eyes. But it also seemed too precious. It doesn't challenge the listener like a "Jesus Of Suburbia". It doesn't bring the true love like a "Summertime". It doesn't inspire anything in me but the thoughts that Modest Mouse has done all of this much more interestingly. Except for that one song that sounds like Queens Of The Stone Age. Brightest corner of this town is below: (2.5 of5 stars)
A trilogy is completed with this effort, which follows Mark's paranoia of Hombre Lobo and sorrowful (excellent) End Times. This one, as you can imagine from normal storyteller lineage, is more of a rebirth. A rejection of the burdens that were carried by the men in the previous albums.
