The latest entry from the crown prince of quirky pop and funky beats may be a bit further from the beaten path than expected. Beck’s 1999 homage to the party, Midnight Vultures, was a driven attempt at evolving the sound he pioneered on Mellow Gold and Odelay.
Perhaps it shouldn’t be as much of a surprise. Beck has always tended to ride the bipolar expressway from one album to the next.
From Mellow Gold’s sarcasm, Beck took a dive to One Foot in the Grave’s dark side. After that, it was back up for the genre-busting Odelay, then down for the sparse, experimental Mutations.
So, in actuality, Beck is right on track, delivering a heart-wrenching opus that counterbalances Midnight Vultures‘ exuberance.
And it’s a truly dark ride at that. Gone are the goofy nonsense verses and impudent choruses, replaced by a more delicate, haunting and honest approach.
Where once he sang, “I’m a loser, baby / So why don’t you kill me?” (“Loser,” Mellow Gold), he’s changed his tune to “Baby, I’m a lost cause.” (“Lost Cause”) There are no more sidelong winks to let you in on the joke–this time Beck is serious.
The whole pretty affair leads off with “The Golden Age,” in which Beck reveals that his voice is a much more versatile instrument than previously assumed. Once you take away the wisecracks and humor, you’re left with a surprisingly powerful, throaty drawl. It’s as if after the party that was Midnight Vultures, Beck woke up with the world’s worst hangover.
It’s not the voice of the teen-faced pixie that fans have become accustomed to; rather, it’s an almost-southern drawl that calls to mind vague impressions of odd combinations of artists.
On “Guess I’m Doin’ Fine,” Beck manages to sound like a student of the likes of his early blues and country influences as he sings, “It’s only lies that I’m living / It’s only tears that I’m cryin’ / It’s only you that I’m losing / Guess I’m doin’ fine.”
Beck’s sparse acoustic ballads are supplemented by rich string accompaniment scored by his father’s hand. Nigel Godrich (Radiohead’s OK Computer and Kid A and Beck’s Mutations) provides further aural supplementation with ambient electronic sounds pinging in the background, rich echoes and exotic backward-tape effects.
That’s not to say there isn’t a glimmer of the old Beck here and there. “Paper Tiger” shambles along with a dark ambiance that calls to mind older days, although it’s still a paralyzing song. More abundant are moments like “Already Dead’s” chime-like guitar line, snaking its way toward a dark end.
“Already dead to me now / ’cause it feels like I’m watching something dying.” These are the seconds of which Sea Change is made: cold impassivity and an eye turned strictly toward the past and its charms.
In fact, the future is a topic suspiciously absent. There is no tomorrow, and there’s no light at the end of Beck’s figurative tunnel. Instead, we have an artist frozen in a single moment of depression. You can feel the effort it takes to pull the air in.
It’s evident in every line, feeling as if the air moving past Beck’s tongue must carry a weight the size of a boulder, and it’s this candidness and sincerity that lends Sea Change its power.
It’s an autumn release that fits the season. These songs are about the end of an age and the coming of a long winter, with no spring in sight.
This album is a close that begs for the creation of a new beginning. Beck has managed to defy expectations again, to create a sound that should echo for decades.
