For The Record: Morning Phase

It’s been two decades since Beck penned the anthemic, self-mocking two-lined chorus that (who knew?) would be swallowed heartily by ‘90s frat bros and despondent weirdos alike. Led by “Loser,” his album Mellow Gold immediately garnered praise with eclectic fusions of anti-folk twang, old-school hip hop, noisy blues riffs and a little bit of everything else, coupled with darkly-wrought ironic humor wrapped up neatly in a smooth-ish yet vapid white boy flow. Just about every record has followed suit, with maybe a pinch of electro or an acoustic cut here and there, to the approval of both staunch critics and casual consumers.

In 2002, however, he digressed from his oeuvre in putting out the simple, honest, brooding and much less clever post-break up album Sea Change, which still managed to pluck at the feeble heartstrings of listeners everywhere despite compromising on both experimental production and wicked clever (but non-academic!) lyricism. When word surfaced that Beck’s 12th and newest album, Morning Phase, would be a continuation/sequel/companion piece/pick-your-buzz-phrase to Sea Change, the title along with nary a word about an emotional regression suggested a beautiful, well-crafted, melancholy (like Mourning, the sly dog) yet hopeful ‘self-discovery’ of sorts. And yes, it turned out quite beautiful indeed. Beautiful but also, after not too long, kinda boring.

I won’t go so far as to say all great art comes from a deep well of pain, but it certainly helps creativity to suffer. Beck was in a tumultuous place those 12 years ago, and it was made pretty obvious: “These days I barely get by/I don’t even try” he echoed on “The Golden Age,” a song made so depressing that such a straightforward delivery was met with empathy rather than accusations of kitschiness. On Morning Phase, Beck gently caresses listeners’ ears with somewhat similar sentiments, though from a rather disconnected perspective. He establishes moody contexts and auras just the same with his lush orchestration, but there is a noticeable lack of first-person narratives in comparison to the album’s predecessor; he instead opts for externalized pop-generalizations (“Somewhere unforgiven/Time will wait for you”) and vaguely preachy tidbits of advice (“You better save yourself/From something you can’t see/Follow it where it goes/Follow it back to me”). In other words, he is writing from somebody’s heart but not really his own, well-meaning as it may be. In doing so, he turns the empathy on its head and dangerously approaches cliché.

Barring the lyrics, as many listeners are wont to do anyway, Morning Phase is musically stunning. Each track swells and contracts delicately within a hollowed sonic landscape, all part of a singular piece that merely comes to rest every few minutes as opposed to a collection of individual tracks cut out and laid down aside one another. “Unforgiven” takes off in a spiraling swoon atop a gently scaled-back tempo and “Blue Moon” soars through a dynamic range reminiscent of Sea Change-standout “Lonesome Tears.” The record is stripped of ominous bass undertones and instances of occasionally overpowering drums used to bring home jarring moments of emotional troughs, which together do in fact point to the lighter nature earlier anticipated.

A mild optimism certainly pervades the musical elements of the record, but they remain in conflict with the lyrical themes to an off-putting degree. Beck fails to convince me of his genuineness when his lovely tunes undermine his words; and as such, I’m not inclined to spin this LP in place of its precursor.

Let me stress that by no means is this record bad. In fact, if this is your first time listening to Beck, I’m sure you will thoroughly adore it. If you liked Sea Change, I’m even more certain of it. The problem is, quite simply, it is too similar in some respects and worse in others. Put another way: if you like to frequent name-brand café chains, you’re probably going to hear it whether you wanted to or not.