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The world’s finest artists always know when to make a creative sea change, no matter the motivation. And since these daring projects sometimes flop (Neil Young’s Trans comes quickly to mind), the public often turns a blind eye because the artist merits carte blanche. But when a musician successfully transforms his or her sound each and every time, the world is left to behold a pure genius.
Beck Hansen is that genius with the Midas-like canon. And now the fresh-face party boy takes another change of tack on his latest LP, the aptly titled Sea Change. In my humble opinion, this is by far his best album to date, allowing him to secure the wunderkind label he was saddled with after the onslaught of Mellow Gold.
Beck is best known for revolutionizing the art of pop music by making it cool and acceptable again. He has always worked at drumming up that next great soul groove, or writing that quirky quip into a singsong anthem. You will find none of that on Sea Change. Lest we forget, we had fair warning on Midnite Vultures’ “Sexx Laws”: "I’m a full grown man, but I’m not afraid to cry." He brilliantly explores one mood in the course of a dozen songs, each one amounting to much more than just a broken heart in search of musical solace.
In a flash of brilliance, and out of despair, Beck the artist picked up an acoustic guitar and allowed Beck the person to share a sulky heart through its hollow body. Sea Change has been labeled Beck’s “breakup album,” making it sound like a folkie copycat. The broken-relationship-reaction record has always made a star of its creator, mostly because it feels real and the public can easily digest the artist’s breadth of emotions. After all, everybody hurts. But these albums can rarely be considered “concept albums” at the same time (to be fair, Joni Mitchell’s Blue comes closest). The term seems to alienate, rather than attract. But read my words: Beck has made Sea Change his break-up record, but he’s also made the world’s most heartfelt concept album in the process.
Our little boy is all grown up and he’s given us a whole different kind of funk to deal with. Gone are the delectable pop hooks and cheeky lyrics. They have been keenly replaced with heart wrenching orchestral flourishes and earnest sadness. Instead, the lyrical plays on words have grown into honest feelings and melancholic metaphors. Take, for instance, the opening to “Guess I’m Doing Fine”:
"There’s a blue bird at my window
I can’t hear the song he sings
All the jewels in Heaven
They don’t look the same."
Sea Change is also a dish best served under darkness off night, when concentrated listening is better. And though your volume will be turned up out of instinct – after all, this is Beck – you’ll soon realize it stays up only to explore the open spaces and musical intricacies he has inquisitively peppered throughout.
This is a virtuoso performance of the highest order, and a rare look into the male side of lost love. Beck pulls no punches and expects nothing in return. Like the best works of romance, he simply ushers the listener through a mountain range of true emotion: sadness (“The Golden Age”), anger (“Paper Tiger”), redemption (“Round the Bend”), and defiance in the face of having to move on alone (“Side of the Road”). Each subject takes its turn, but swerves onto the next before the listening heart actually has time to ache.
Scott Caffrey
JamBase | World Wide
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