Showing posts with label jack johnson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jack johnson. Show all posts

You've Changed- Making Sense of Let's Start a Cult by Rustic Overtones


I think the problem is the length.

That’s what she said.

No I’m serious.

So is she.

Moving on, I’m talking about the new Rustic Overtones album, Let’s Start a Cult, and how my problem with it, the main hang up I have about it, is the length. It’s too short. That’s the stumbling block. The last song seems to start right after the third song is over. I know there is a slow song in there somewhere, but ultimately we have the first two- “Let’s Start a Cult” and “Let’s Start a Cult Part 2,” which sound like one song, albeit one with a regrettable outro, and a nice enough third song, “Solid.” Then, just like that, the horns creep in for the beginning of “Going Out With a Bang/Grand Finale” and a few short minutes later, the album is over.

It’s confusing.

That’s what she said.

Shut up, I’m still serious.

Let’s Start a Cult is a shade less than thirty minutes long. It’s only eight songs, none that reach the five minute mark and only three that hit four minutes. In contrast, the last album, New Way Out, had only five songs out of thirteen that were under four minutes. Now a song doesn’t need to be long to be good. That’s not the point. The point is that part of the draw of Rustic albums was the depth and scope of them. There was a shitload of shit going on. With Let’s Start a Cult, there are really just a handful of things happening. It’s not disappointing and it’s not like the music is bad- it’s just…different.

My relationship with Rustic started in high school and since then, we’ve had the kind of relationship most people who are in their early thirties have with friends in high school- on again, off again. Life gets complex around your mid-twenties and the older friends you have seem to drift in and out of your life. With each reappearance they joyfully (usually) remind you why you were friends in the first place. I haven’t been as excited for a new album like I was with Let’s Start a Cult since New Way Out. Interestingly enough though, after listening to both the first time through, I was left confused. My old friend had changed. They had grown a beard, maybe started to hang out with different people. With New Way Out it took some time to get through the new facial hair, new crowds and new habits before I was able to see my friend again. For the most part everything is still awesome, just not as awesome as it was. But that’s life- you know, we grow, we change, we adapt. Inherently we’ll always be the same person- just tweaked a little bit here and there.

Yet this Let’s Start a Cult person- well they’ve changed even more and frankly, I’m just not sure how to react. It’s as if that same friend suddenly started going by their middle name or became a Yankees’ fan. I know we’re friends because we have been for so long. Now though, I’m starting to wonder why we were friends and if we still are.

Let’s Start a Cult had a disadvantage from the jump- Tony McNaboe was gone. That dude is one of my favorite drummers out there and the only drummer who makes me want to instantly play drums after listening to him. He’s no longer in Rustic. His replacement is fine- totally capable. While I question why he always wears sunglasses, I can’t knock his drumming. He’s Charlie Watts steady. Great. But the Tony Mac pop is gone and I really think with it, that signature sound of Rustic is gone too. There are moments of familiarity within Let’s Start a Cult, but they’re fleeting. Maybe I should be more concerned with my inability to move on because there’s a good sized part of me that just wants to hear “Combustible” over and over again.

I’ve thought about this before- how deep down, we should want our favorite artists, whether it’s musicians, filmmakers or writers, to change over time. If you keep doing the same thing over and over again you become Jack Johnson and I haven’t listened to anything he’s released after 2007 for a reason- I don’t see the point. But at the same time, we don’t want our favorite artists to change too much because then we might not be a fan anymore. Case in point, The Office- where Michael Scott left and over the past couple seasons, so has the dry absurdity that made the show so much fun. Now? Now it’s like almost any other bad comedy on television. It’s sad. It should be put down like a sick dog or the 2011 Red Sox. But there’s the fine line that comes with liking an artist with staying power- the line of evolving.

You could see and more accurately, you could hear Rustic’s evolution with New Way Out. String arrangements had replaced the horn arrangements and on stage, they had more keyboards up there than an IT department. There was a definitive maturity to New Way Out and a transparent attempt to move beyond a jam like “Combustible.” A jam like that was Paranoid Social Club territory now. “Nuts and Bolts?” That song is almost eight minutes long, but is absolutely nothing like “Dig,” the last long song the band released, way back in the day on Long Division. “Nuts and Bolts” had parts and sections. It was essentially eight to ten songs in one. The true testament to the skill of Rustic was that each of those teased songs were great and were potentially better than what most people were releasing. If there is any connection to be made to Rustic’s past with Let’s Start a Cult, it’s a connection to “Nuts and Bolts.” Let’s Start a Cult really doesn’t sound like an album, but a multi-part song with each song acting more as a movement than a traditional song.

Let’s Start a Cult is good from a music perspective. That’s not the issue here. Let’s Start a Cult is disappointing from a content perspective. The songs are all good, but not memorable- the ability to create a lasting impression is missing. It’s an album that sounds like an idea not quite flushed out- so close, but not quite.

If it’s the last one Rustic Overtones ever come out with, it’ll only make it more disappointing.

I just wish it was longer.

That’s what she said.

Probably.

And she’d be right.

The Jack Johnson Morning

Some mornings are Jack Johnson mornings. This morning is a Jack Johnson morning. Today is Thursday, but it would be much cooler if today was Friday. It almost feels like Friday, which makes it worse.

What is a Jack Johnson morning?

1. You’re over-tired.
2. You’re inexplicably feeling the three beers you drank last night.
3. The office is quiet and daring you to be unproductive.
4. You’d rather be on the beach, a deck or even better- still in bed.
5. Sports radio can only seem to talk about Peyton Manning’s neck.
6. It’s not summer, but man you wish it was.

Jack Johnson is summer music. So a Jack Johnson morning can’t happen in the summer because really any morning during the summer months could be a Jack Johnson morning, just like any morning in the fall could be a My Morning Jacket morning and any morning in the spring could be a De La Soul morning. Jack Johnson mornings, much like Bob Marley, Sam Cooke or Band of Horses’ mornings, can only happen in the winter- specifically in the dead of winter.

Is it safe to say Johnson popped and fizzled? You don’t hear much about him anymore and an argument could easily be made that he’s released the same album five or six times, just with different names. I’d counter with, that’s totally cool. I like Jack Johnson’s music because it’s Jack Johnson’s music. The melodies are peaceful, the grooves are easy and the drums are so passive that they frustrate me to the point of ignoring them and then coming to grips with it. I am not looking for a Jack Johnson death metal album. I appreciate that he knows that. I appreciate that he records his albums in a solar-powered studio out in California and writes most of his material sitting on the beach in Hawaii. His albums sound like the beach in Hawaii. That’s cool.

But I really haven’t listened to Mr. Johnson in a while and I’m not sure why other than I just haven’t. I saw him live once and it was surprisingly great. It wasn’t epic and it wasn’t like seeing My Morning Jacket- it didn’t have that kind of excitement and energy, but it was cool in its own way. I wouldn’t recommend going to see a Johnson show with a group of dudes, though. It’s not that kind of joint. Go with your lady, drape your arms around her and just sway baby, sway.

A Jack Johnson morning is a reason why music is great- because of its chameleon-like nature and its ability to be there regardless of what kind of mood you’re in or morning you’re having. Tuesday I wanted loud music and yesterday I wanted some funky jams. Music was there for me. The days of the week might not be all that accommodating, but my I Pod is.

So here’s to a Jack Johnson morning. Who knows what the rest of the day holds, but it’s nice to know that we have the morning covered.

That’s a start. We’ll worry about the finish later.