Sea Change

If, like me, you weren’t entirely convinced by Beck’s Prince-stage as exhibited in purple and neon green funk on 'Midnite Vultures', then his latest effort will come as a welcome return to familiar terrain. Not that Beck has ever made an album like this, for none of 'Mellow Gold’s' lo-fi anthems, 'Odelay’s' genre-defining electrofolk or 'Mutations'' multiple personality disorders are prevalent here.

With Nigel Godrich as producer, this spacious record allows Beck to sing the way he was meant to – in a slow, sad country voice, without the twang, but with all the feeling.

"Put your hands on the wheel, let the golden age begin" is the line that sets things into slow, honey-dripping motion, 'Golden Age' being one of the finest tracks on the album, all tingling glockenspiel, moaning wurlitzer and Smokey Hormel’s electric shards of guitar, tumbling through the wound down window. We’re also immediately introduced to the theme: heartbreak on a fantastic scale.

Loneliness, bitterness and regret run through the album, in that order, like a trail of ticket stubs you shake from your wallet after the end of a long relationship. This was the first date, this was a special movie, the cash slip from a petrol station on a long roadtrip etc.

'Paper Tiger' is more of a late morning beer-song, Joey Waronker tapping the drums in his sleep, but the swirling string sections remind you that this isn’t funny anymore. On 'Lonesome Tears' you get the idea that Godrich wanted to make this record a slightly grander affair, the strings rising and rising towards the end, begging a massive burst of chorus and clanging cymbals, but the call goes unanswered. Beck’s playing things down, stopping where it seems decent.

'Single Lost Cause' is a winner, bitterness dripping from it like cabbage rotting in your fridge’s veggie drawer, yet still managing to be the album’s only upbeat-sounding number.

The sonic pies Beck is baking here would fit nicely next to artists like a reserved Wilco, a less weird Smog, a happy Ben Christophers or even latter day David Bowie. That might seem like a bizarre and diverse group of artists, but that’s how far we’ve come – everybody’s got the music of someone else in what they’re doing, you can’t escape arbitrary comparison anymore.

Personal favourite track on 'Sea Change' has got to be 'It’s All In Your Mind', previously only (as far as I know) available in a live rendition on Neil Young’s 'The Bridge School Concert' charity album some years back. Here, it rocks without ever getting up off the seat: “you got a devil up your sleeve/ and he’s talking to me.”

After this, the album dies a bit, with 'Round The Bend' a particularly tuneless chicken pecking the bottom of the well in search of enthusiasm. 'Already Dead', despite appearances, makes things right again, Beck voicing rather bluntly that the love must move on now, or rather take what’s left and fuck off to the next town that might care.

By about the fifteenth listen (and you’ll only get into this album after at least five), you’ll realise that 'Little One' is really quite a stirring track, with a glint of hope somewhere under the terror.

All things considered, 'Sea Change' is a consistent album, if not filled with armloads of tunes, it weaves a strong lyrical narrative that you rarely hear these days.

How fans will take to depro-Beck is another question, but for my money, he’ll be making music like this for the next 30 years. Let’s face it: the world’s fast running out of happy things to sing about, so the blues can only be two albums away. Bring it on.

(Geffen)