Wistfulness and melancholy run through the set, lending it a thematic cohesiveness even as it touches on everything from string-kissed chamber-pop to pounding power-pop, accordion-laced country and lounge-y jazz.Īny sense of gloom is offset by sterling craftsmanship, from the vivid imagery of Johnston's terse lyrics to musical accompaniment that helps give those unflinching lyrics their emotional power. "Rain on the City" is an apt title for an album steeped in loss, from lovers who've gone to loved ones who've died. Now he's back, and he recaptures the form that drew so much acclaim. One of the best-regarded singer-songwriters of the '90s - he had a hit in '94 with "Bad Reputation" - Freedy Johnston hadn't put out a CD of new original songs in nine years. Sam Seiler, Special to Journal Sentinel And just pray that these guys never get a talk show. Go ahead and put this album on when you're at work or doing dishes or for some other reason only half paying attention.
Not unlike Tyra Banks or, say, Mario Lopez, the album quickly loses appeal once you figure out what it actually likes to talk about.Īgainst a backdrop of harmony guitars and oh-so-prog-y flute work, Smith apparently takes himself seriously enough to drop lyrics such as, "I will wear the sun/Ancient light to these woods/ Woods that I walk through alone/ I will take my rest/ With all creatures who dwell/ Under the smallest of green." Um, sure. "The Courage of Others" is absolutely gorgeous - but only from a distance. Even when the band turns electric, it remains restrained. And the complex but non-invasive acoustic work would never interrupt your guests' conversations. Tim Smith's all-pro singing is soothing, but not so much so that it would incite a contagion of yawns. Geraud Blanks, Special to Journal SentinelĪll the components of classic dinner music are here: general evenness in tempo and volume exquisitely played and recorded instruments a beautifully executed vocal track.īut unless you're hosting a feast for some community theater's "Lord of the Rings" cast party, Midlake's second album probably isn't going to feel quite right tableside. This vanity project is emotionally devoid of the angst, humor or clever musings that make indie/alternative rock so appealing. "Rebirth" is immersed in a cloak of career invincibility: Wayne seems aware that no matter what he releases, his fans will gladly consume it. Lil Wayne - once again, with little to say - appears sparsely throughout the song, allowing Shanell to do most of the heavy lifting. "Runnin' " featuring Young Money songstress Shanell, is one of the few standout tracks on "Rebirth" its success is mostly due to a dark, moody, guitar melody that has an enchanting bite. Satisfied to simply regurgitate incoherent, lyrical babble, Wayne sings (kind of), raps (sort of), but rarely touches on a discernible topic or concept.Īssisted by hip-hop starlet Nicki Minaj, "Knockout" has an energy that is undeniably invigorating, yet falls short due to uninspired lyrics from both stars.
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Wayne's penchant for over-using pitch-correction software makes for strange bedfellows with wailing guitars and microphone distortion ("Da Da Da" and "Knockout"). Unfortunately, reality, for listeners with eardrums, is a 12-track escapade into repetitive, humdrum, blah, blah, blah, rock music contrivance. When you're Lil Wayne, and you have your own record label, your rock-star fantasies become reality. Gilbertson, Special to Journal SentinelĪt some point, everyone has dreamed of being one of three things: an astronaut, an athlete or a rock star. With a keen ear for, but not slavish adherence to, the country-rock of Gram Parsons and the sheer tunefulness of the Beatles, Blue Rodeo rolls through both discs, ending each with the relaxed, extended codas of "Million Miles" and "Venus Rising." Twenty-three years after its first album, this band resolutely stands in the way of the shallowness that pop music likes to call "progress." That traditionalism works, thanks to primary songwriters and singers Greg Keelor and Jim Cuddy, whose differing shades create a chiaroscuro palette of pleasurable durability. The approach is not dissimilar to what Wilco attempted on "Being There," its 1996 double album, but Blue Rodeo holds onto the very roots-rock traditionalism Wilco was ostentatiously shedding.
As if to emphasize that fact, the Canadian group's latest album, "The Things We Left Behind," spreads 16 songs out over two discs even though the entire set could fit on a single CD. Blue Rodeo is not a band for the iTunes generation.
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