Recording review - Jackson Browne, Standing in the Breach (2014)

Solid hooks can't quite fill the gap between the personal and the political

It’s taken six years but Jackson Browne is back again to refute both the critics and himself. On 2008’s Time the Conqueror, Browne was so immersed in his political message that he lost his connection to the emotional core that has driven his popularity. Worse, reviewers rightly bemoaned the album’s weaker musicality. On Standing in the Breach, Browne digs deep and resurrects the subtle but full arrangements, the rich melodic ideas and the well-crafted songwriting of his early albums. While about half the material carries forward the idealism and leftist politics he’s emphasized since the 1980s, he leavens that with a variety of life sketches that bring back the missing personal element. To a great extent, the album succeeds in delivering the classic Jackson Browne sound, in part because his voice is as strong and clear as it’s ever been. But nothing in this offering is as moving as “Song for Adam” or “From Silver Lake” from his solo debut. “Here” is the closest contender, with lyrics about loss and disconnection, but it only offers Zen comfort for the pain, rather than empathy or catharsis. Despite this, it’s still a very elegant little package. The music captures a sense of clarity and coming acceptance while the meditative vocal delivery bridges the divide between the music and pain in the lyrics. That complexity is the hallmark of Browne’s best work.

Browne begins the album with a peace offering to longtime followers, “The Birds of St. Mark”, which dates back to 1967, well before his solo career. This had only been released in a live piano version on 2005’s Solo Acoustic, Vol. 1, but this studio take settles into his original vision of the tune as a Byrds-style song. True to that, he’s picked up the tempo and his collaborator Greg Leisz fills the piece with Rickenbacker 12-string chiming worthy of Roger McGuinn. The track rolls out easily and the arrangement is quite polished. Those old fans will appreciate the gift and it does call back to the rich metaphorical lyrics of his earliest work. It’s a good song, but it feels a bit precious and dated. Written (appropriately) in the voice of a much younger man, it’s a bit out of place on Standing in the Breach. There’s an immaturity in the flowery language and allusion, using them as a shield against being seen as shallow or uncomplicated. It’s not clear if Browne is reaching back to his lost youth or merely reminding us of who he was. In either case, although it’s quite pretty, it doesn’t seem as engaged as his solo piano performance.

The album’s title offers its own multilayered message. The song, “Standing in the Breach”, is an affirmation, even as it recognizes the dire times we face, “Try to put our world together/ Standing in the breach.” But that phrase also touches on where Browne is trying to position himself, reaching out to both ends of his long career and proposing continuity between emotional meaning and social message. To his credit, he draws on both sides, but he rarely connects with the two on the same song. The closest he comes is on “The Long Way Around”, which ties a personal perspective to his commentary in an attempt to soften the preachiness. He doesn’t quite pull it off, but it still turns out to be one of the strongest tracks on the album. The low-key, sparse arrangement relies on a simple acoustic riff, a steady drum beat and the melodic bass work Browne has a penchant for. It’s a hopeful sound that contrasts with the litany of societal ills he identifies, shoehorning in pollution, greed, gun violence and ingratitude among the privileged. The vocals fit the music best, with a bouncy flow like “All Star” by Smashmouth and Browne lays down some tight lyrical turns. The track is filled out by reverse-gated guitar licks and sweet femme harmonies. Unfortunately, his message ends up a little muddled by the kitchen sink list and dated references like, “It’s hard to say which did more ill/ Citizens United or the Gulf oil spill,” but it’s catchy enough to gloss that over.

Flaws aside, Standing in the Breach is a big improvement on Time the Conqueror and it rekindles my appreciation for Browne as a writer and performer. While it doesn’t turn the clock back to the early 1970s and he can’t quite close the gap between his classic hits and later activism, the album shows that he can still turn a nice phrase and craft a solid hook.

(This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)

Recording review: Boz Scaggs, Memphis (2013)

Beautifully engineered easy-listening music fails to excite

Even with Boz Scaggs’ distinctive voice, Memphis is of little distinction. The album is beautifully engineered, mixed to perfection, but has all the spontaneity of 1970s easy listening music. Age hasn’t hurt Scaggs’ singing – regardless of the time that’s passed, his understated soul tone unfurls like fine napped suede – but these songs rarely provokes him to engage. It’s frustrating because the musicians are all top notch, including the righteous Spooner Oldham on organ. Keb’ Mo’ even lends his haunting slide guitar to prop up “Dry Spell”. Given a freer hand, these players could infuse the tracks with personality. But Steve Jordan’s production keeps all the focus on Scaggs, who can’t be coaxed into caring enough. Maybe the problem is that the material is too comfortable for him. Most of the tunes rely on the same pop-soul feel that filled his breakthrough album, Silk Degrees (1976).

For the most part, his crew sets the hook while he breezily keeps his emotional distance. On the opening track, “Gone Baby Gone”, he sings,

Tell you where’s it’s at
Ain’t nobody cryin’ now
‘Cept for me
But it always mattered to me 

Except for a touch of falsetto to break up the flow, he could be singing a jingle for Buick or Oldsmobile rather than a breakup song. Memphis doesn’t really wake up until the lead single, a cover of Mink DeVille’s “Mixed Up, Shook Up Girl”. Scaggs retains a fair amount of Willy DeVille’s original phrasing, tempered with a Van Morrison vibe, but the soul grows out of a cross-pollination of spare NOLA funk and Blind Boys of Alabama backing vocals. In this case, his distanced perspective and rueful tone fits the lyrics.


After building this slight momentum, the next two covers slow it back down with a retro trip to 1970s easy listening. “Rainy Night In Georgia” is the stronger of the two, relying on a stripped down, jazzy guitar and Scaggs’ voice to carry the tune. While the sparse instrumentation supports the moody interpretation, “Love On A Two Way Street” goes for a lounge vibe. The languid beat and lazy bass line create a phenobarbital trance. It takes another Mink DeVille cover to shake off the stupor. “Cadillac Walk” lays down a dark bayou boogie that simmers at a slow boil. It’s simpler than slide master Sonny Landreth might play, but the heat shimmer of the tremolo guitar is right up his alley. The recording is perfectly mastered with every voice easily distinguished, from the distant tinkling of the honky tonk piano to the drummer’s subtle stick work in the opening verse. The power of these two Mink DeVille songs, along with the weary sadness of “Corrina, Corrina”, suggest that bluesy songs are a better showcase for Scaggs today than the pop-soul that shot him to fame in the mid ‘70s.

It’s interesting to go back to Silk Degrees again in the light of the album and see the parallels. Slick soul arrangements with silky strings? Check. Light female backing vocals? Check. Tight grooves and relatively shallow emotion? Check. But youthful enthusiasm and exuberant energy win the day. Songs like “Georgia” and “Lido Shuffle” have the spark of a singer ready to take on the world. Memphis fans the embers and shows that Scaggs still has his voice, but has gotten complacent. The jazz standards on 2008’s Speak Low seemed to challenge him more and evoked a livelier set of performances. Five years later, despite the exquisite engineering and note-perfect playing, his latest album is more of a museum piece.

(This review originally appeared on Spectrum Culture)

CD review - Secret Cities, Strange Hearts (2011)

The retro tinged low-fi crowd has its separate camps: purists reproducing a particular era, garage bands epitomizing DIY simplicity, countless acts using the sound to scratch an aesthetic itch. Secret Cities has pitched their tent out in the far edges. They're closest to the purists, with a lounge/easy listening vibe. They capture an innocence perfectly in tune with their '60s feel. The sound is hazy and muted, like a lint wrapped cheap phono cartridge or a '66 Plymouth Valiant's AM radio

That blanket of fog makes listening to Strange Hearts almost like the memory of music rather than a direct experience. Despite the simple arrangements and easy listening feel, the production values give it a trippy feel even though this is not quite 'normal' psychedelia. It's also worth noting that the songwriting is very good and occasionally clever.

The opening track, Always Friends, nails the '60s pop song. The melody and reverbed drums are era-perfect. The balance of the uptempo beat and melancholy singing reflects so many songs from that time. On the first listen, the lyrics drift by, regretfully dealing with breakup and loss. It wasn't until a later listen that the subversiveness of the lyrics slipped through, taking a more modern attitude: "But I feel much better to know it was bad for you, too."

No Pressure folds girl group high harmonies into a proto-ska sound. It's a thick schmear of nostalgia, but so satisfying. Like the rest of the album, the parts balance just so. The flow from No Pressure into the lazy beat of Pebbles is effortless. This is another track with pleasantly surprising lyrics:

Pebbles, it's time to go home now.
The drag race is over.
You smashed up your car. And now
The dream is over.
There will be no wedding.
I begged you to stay home
Now look what you've done.

The story setup shows more depth than a casual listen might suggest.

Each track pushes today a little further away. Strange Hearts defines an alternate reality where Secret Cities should have influenced a slew of other bands 45 years ago. Serve up Grasshoppers all around to sink into this sweet time warp.