Music Review: Beck - Modern Guilt
After years of strong production from funky, white-boy word twister Beck, The Information given to us in 2006 felt like maybe he was losing a bit of steam. An effort pushed along at times by Nigel Godrich's production, it was lacking in that constant rhythmic propulsion usually found in Beck's work.
And now, for the second release in a row, Modern Guilt feels more like a vehicle for its producer, Danger Mouse, than it does for Mr. Hansen.
Starting jam "Orphans" is a nice peak for the Danger Mouse/Beck collaboration though. With its choppy drum sample and haplessly strummed acoustic guitars, Beck's lyrical prowess seems as pure as ever:
If I wake up and see my maker coming/With all of his crimson and his iron desire/We'll drag the streets with the baggage of longing to be loved or destroyed/From a void to a grain of sand in your hand.
Indeed the better part of the album's A-side is a showcase for what two very talented people can fashion. The lovely, flighty "Chemtrails", where the Flaming Lips obviously rub off on Beck and the bouncing, well-placed title track's sweet harmonies will serve as landmarks in his career.
A second Modern Guilt pair-up finds Beck blending lyrics with Cat Power's Chan Marshall for smooth results on two tracks, including my favorite, the hypnotic "Walls" - choppy drum loops and swaying strings greet their voices well in a quick ditty that only requires 2 and a half minutes of your concentration.
Sadly, the great songs on Guilt are interspersed with repetitive (verging on boring) cuts like "Gamma Ray" and "Youthless" where Beck seems like a buried foreigner in his own songs.
A great many of the songs here sound, format-wise, like Hansen wanted to make another Sea Change, but instead they're bloated by Danger Mouse's well-meaning laptop wizardry. But weighing the work as a whole, Modern Guilt's triumphs overcome its failures marginally - especially after several listens.
Closer "Volcano" is a great example of how this album could've ranked among Beck's greatest if only it were more consistent. Sputtering dub hits usher in a lilting Beck melody where he measures his own troubles against the tale of a Japanese girl jumping into a volcano, and wonders if she was trying to return to the "womb of the world."
Throughout Modern Guilt the one thing all the tracks have in common is that Beck sounds immensely exhausted. Maybe he just needs to lay down, take two ibuprofen, and call us in a couple years when he feels reinvigorated enough to have a clear artistic vision in front of him.
