It is fitting that I should review
a somber album focused on loss next, since that’s my mood today. Last night my step-father Lawrence died. He died of pneumonia, but as some readers may
know he was in the midst of a lengthy decline from dementia.
The terrible degradation of his
mind has now mercifully ended, but it doesn’t lessen how much I’m going to miss
him. He was a wonderful, gentle and soft-spoken
man who took me into his home with open arms and loved me like a father should
love a son.
It was his birthday last week (we
are fellow Geminis) and I called him to wish him well. I’m not sure if he knew who I was anymore,
but it was great to hear his voice one last time and say goodbye, even if I didn't know it at the time.
Disc 520 is…. Sea Change
Artist: Beck
Year of Release: 2002
What’s up with the Cover? If you’re going to go with the ‘Giant Head Cover’
then keep it simple, like Gordon Lightfoot does. I don’t like the addition of whimsical
splashes of colour, nor do I think asking Beck to comb his hair for the photo
shoot would have been unreasonable.
How I Came To Know It: No story here.
I was already a Beck fan and just drilling through his album
collection. I can’t remember if I heard
good things about this record or if I did, from whom, but they would have been
telling the truth.
How It Stacks Up: We have eight Beck albums, and the top of the order
is crowded, but I’ve got to put “Sea Change” the best of them all at #1.
Also, by
way of errata, I note that I neglected to stack up “Midnite Vultures” back at Disc 348. Oops. I’d put "Midnite Vultures" at #4, just edging
out “Modern Guilt”.
Rating: 4 stars but almost 5.
Whatever
it is about breakups, they can result in some truly amazing art, and “Sea
Change” fits that description chronicling Beck’s emotional journey through
heartbreak.
The
record couldn’t be more different than the party-time funk flavouring of “Midnite
Vultures” and shares much more in common with 1998’s “Mutations.” (Reviewed way
back at Disc 187.) “Mutations” was
a bit detached for my tastes, with a lot of strange sampled sounds and experimental
takes on traditional genres that left it unfocused.
All of
these problems are solved with “Sea Change” which is driven by real
instrumentation, and strength of song writing.
These songs are so beautifully simple they could pass as folk music, if
it weren’t for Beck’s decision to put in some atmospheric reverb and background
sound. Although I love simple
arrangements, the added elements are in just the right proportion, not
overpowering the songs themselves, but instead adding to them. This is one of
Beck’s most guitar-centric albums, with a lot of acoustic work but steel guitar,
string sections, chimes and even a glockenspiel make an appearance to add depth
and resonance to the melodies.
Beck’s
voice is also as good as I’ve heard it, ranging from pop crooner on “The Golden Age” to Nick Cave confessional
on “Paper Tiger.” Because of Beck’s brilliance at co-opting
musical styles and his innovative production decisions I think people often
overlook how good a singer he is. On “Sea
Change” he allows himself to emotionally invest in his delivery and it makes it
all the better.
It is an
album that should be listened to cohesively, in the order presented. The latter half of the album is slightly
weaker on its own (and held it just out of five star territory) but when taken
together it forms a perfect bit of mood music.
Lyrically,
this is also the strongest of Beck’s albums, as he charts the often numbing
quality of grief in all its various forms.
“Golden Age” summarizes the
lack of future direction:
“And the sun don’t shine even
when its day
You gotta drive all night just to
feel like you’re okay
These days I barely get by
I don’t even try.”
“Guess I’m Doing Fine” covers that
paradox of feeling both sad and awkwardly okay at the same time:
“It’s only lies that I’m living
It’s only tears that I’m crying
It’s only you that I’m losing
Guess I’m doing fine.”
And “Paper Tiger” takes on the finality of
loss:
“There’s one road to the morning
There’s one road to the truth
There’s one road back to
civilization
But there’s no road back to you.”
The
imagery of driving and barren highways recurs throughout the album and helps
give it a cohesive quality of moving forward, without knowing where you’re
going. If you’ve had your heart broken,
this image will resonate. However, “Sea
Change” is definitely not is a driving album, because no matter how quiet your
car is you will miss some of the more subtle bass notes. It is best for head phones or a quiet sit in
the living room. I listened to it while
painting, which was just the right amount of meditative distraction. Do not
put this album on at a party unless you want your guests to finish their drinks
and go home.
However,
if you want to explore a journey into thoughtful grieving (and we all want that
sometimes) then this is as good a journey as you’ll find.
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