Village Voice - Z Review

[LaurieBlue]

http://villagevoice.com/music/0602,dolan,71624,22.html

Dazed and Confuzed
Jim James's alienated roots maneuvers murmur mistily at the world beyond the Bonnarooskis

by Jon Dolan
January 10th, 2006 11:23 AM

My Morning Jacket
Z
ATO/RCA  
 
Jim James could have named every My Morning Jacket record so far Zummagumma but he decided to call the latest one Z, lofting the letter not seen in Latin—"whoreson zed," according to a random King Lear dis—as semiotic freak flag for screwy bastard causes, including his own. But James chooses his bastards wisely. He's implied that his decision to like Skynyrd over Squirrel Bait back in his Louisville youth was a rocky row to hoe, but in the world of lived human experience it was smart politics, triangulating post-Slint dub theory and Champagne Jam rock. Z flows reggae, doo-wop, an annoying Dada waltz, a Madonna allusion, and a heap of town dreamer wonderment into their "Tuesday's Gone" Calgon. I've heard this mild adventurousness described as "fearless," hippies being people we all know quake at things that sound good when you're smoking pot. At least James has reached beyond gullible Bonnarooskis to pull in cool cats and pop fans via a Murmur-ing invitation to his new South.

The gooey friendliness of his sound notwithstanding, James isn't wrong to assume alienation is the secret of his band's obvious power to transport. It's deeper than linking mid-'90s sound drift to mid-'00s whither-America to chesty classic-rock pride. Unlike the Drive-By Truckers or Bubba Sparxxx, James doesn't care enough about the roots he's tugging at to dig for an organic identity; one day in 1993 someone at a Rodan show yelled, "Play 'Free Bird,' " Jim nodded, and 10 years later he's a mid-level rock star. His secret is that he wouldn't know Lester Maddox from Let's Active. His ramble-tamble spaciness, amplified by his cotton-brained machine shed production, creates a sense of bemused distance from his own past, kind of like Cornershop's When I Was Born for the 7th Time or Endtroducing . . . DJ Shadow or—a more site-specific reference—the lived-in flakiness of Lambchop's Nixon. Problem is, Z can be kind of a drag.  

James claims he made Z while taking hallucinogens and listening to Sam Cooke. This is exactly the kind of line rock guys toss off during the third phoner of the day while cleaning their shotguns or combing their teddy bears. But on the spacey-wobbly opener, "Wordless Chorus," his voice morphs not unlysergically into an exurban-rural gay-straight dream bleed of raceless placeless possibility, augmented by simulated airplane takeoff noises (whoooooosh) for those less adept in the discernment of sonic metaphor. It's James's Dean Wareham–does–Neil Young soul singing that evokes for fans, though often he thinks too much and sorta fucks it up, because his cultural and class experience forces him to shoulder the vicissitudes of Meaning. An anti-Bush Christian (cf. "Gideon") is a guy I should have more fun getting behind in 2005. But James takes me only halfway to heaven. Attracted by the idea of a band whose favorite Neil Young record is King Tubby Meets Rockers Uptown, I saw MMJ a few years ago in a trucker hat moment that was the wrong look for them, got mildly lifted, and went home humming "Powderfinger" just as they probably did, though their ride was further.

On Z, they have trouble following their sound into the weirdness it craves. "What a Wonderful Man" would be a pleasantly loopy me-and-Jesus song if the chorus didn't sound like ELP's "Lucky Man." The equally rocking "Off the Record," which invokes happy things like open cars and penny arcades against a nice sun-splashed up-riff, worries that "all of this could turn to mist" instead of just admitting that mist is what he lives on. "Anytime" is an excellent Black Crowes tune about music overcoming the ineffability of spoken language. But it's on the padded pain chamber expanse of "Knot Comes Loose," where all the daisy haze, religion, and brotherly cluelessness merge into something simpering toward grace. The conga playing is almost as good as Russ Kunkel's on Zuma.

[peanut butter puddin surprise]

It's like the writer has dissected the molecules of Z into their core elements, put each element on a Petrie dish, and looked at each element through a dirty microscope while on acid, and then wrote the article after a week of Wheaties, ping pong, Go Fish!, and reruns of "Happy Days".

Or is it just me?  8)

[ycartrob]

Funny as it may seem (and I swear, I am not making this up) but this is almost exactly, nearly word for word, what I thought about Z the first couple of times I listened to it.

It's as if this guy read my thoughts and put them down on paper! (except, I thought "Bourbon soaked and southern fried" rather than "exurban-rural gay-straight dream bleed of raceless placeless possibility").

Oh well, close enough to frighten me...

Be afraid.

[ycartrob]

exurban-rural gay-straight dream bleed of raceless placeless possibility

"Poets are those who muddy their waters to make them appear deep".- Nietzsche

[tomEisenbraun]

Anybody else find this absolutely impossible to read all the way through? I just gave up. Honestly. Because the guy doesn't know any words but adjectives and uses them more for their sound rather than their sense.

Blech.

I got one fer ya: Z rocks.

That's enough of a review for me. You don't gain anything through reading something like this, you just take away time from listening to the music and formulating an opinion.

[wellfleet]

It's as if this guy read my thoughts and put them down on paper! (except, I thought "Bourbon soaked and southern fried"

NO YOU DIDN'T!!! *I* sais that. Ladies and gents, this man is a plagiarizer and I want him exposed. I'm putting YOU on notice.  ;D

[LaurieBlue]

That is so funny...I tried to really read it all the way through..AND comprehend what he was saying...but I too gave up.  Don't need it :-).

Laurie
(glad I wasn't the only one confused)

[wellfleet]

This is not MMJ-fanatic-can't-say-nuthin'-bad-about-my-favourite-band-lunacy because I've been somewhat critical of Z and what it means to me, but this review is the musical critique equivalent of an Alexander McQueen haute couture gown. Lots of frills, very artsy, and not an inch of practical advice. What does it all mean? How many more names can the reviewer drop? How many more allusions to other bands can be made here? This is why I'm ashamed to be one of these hacks. Tell us what the album sounds like, tell us about the band, tell us if you like it. I don't need this NYU-film school hogwash. ARRRRGGHHHH!

[wellfleet]

If you need a dictionary, a copy of Billboard, access to Google, and all back issues of the New Yorker to understand an album review, then the reviewer failed to do his job. Fewer words, more meaning, please. This reminds me of having to fill out a 400-word slot with nothing to say so you resort to purple prose.
I would like to second tom's Blech!

[ali]

add a third blech to the record. if you're losing people within about half a second of beginning a review, something's not right. my brain got tired at about the second sentence trying to filter the crap. shouldering the vicissitudes of Meaning... yeah, yeah, whatever.

[ali]

add a third blech to the record. if you're losing people within about half a second of beginning a review, something's not right. my brain got tired at about the second sentence trying to filter the crap. shouldering the vicissitudes of Meaning... yeah, yeah, whatever.

[Sleazy Rider]

Fuckin' piss on this turd.  I guess thats what happens to people when they are paid to listen to music and give their opinion.

[peanut butter puddin surprise]

People!  This is the Village Voice!  We should expect tom-snob-foolery from their writers....

[Dee.]

Whew, this is something else.  I'm gonna go ahead and agree with this:

It's like the writer has dissected the molecules of Z into their core elements, put each element on a Petrie dish, and looked at each element through a dirty microscope while on acid, and then wrote the article after a week of Wheaties, ping pong, Go Fish!, and reruns of "Happy Days".

That sounds about right.  :)

[tdan]

Whenever I read this review I kept picturing that Michael Musto guy that writes for them also.  Keeping that in mind allowed me to keep it all in perspective.  ;)