THE AVETT BROTHERS: MAGPIE AND THE DANDELION (2013)
1) Open-Ended Life; 2) Morning
Song; 3) Never Been Alive; 4) Another Is Waiting; 5) Bring Your Love To Me; 6)
Good To You; 7) Part From Me; 8) Skin And Bones; 9) Souls Like The Wheels; 10)
Vanity; 11) The Clearness Is Gone.
Another album like this and the Avett Brothers
may as well apply for sainthood — Scott as St. Augustin and Timothy as St.
Francis, or vice versa. They have perfected their heartbreaking skills to smoothly
function like an unbreakable machine, churning song after song after song that
all produce the same vibe of immaculate brotherly love for all humanity,
tempered with immeasurable sadness at the current state of said humanity. The
only problem is, enjoying each of their subsequent albums with the same
strength of faith and will is now akin to meticulously going to church every
Sunday and melting in the verbal glow of your favorite preacher. You know damn
well that he's already exhausted all of his topics, ideas, and original
approaches to Scripture, but you just need
one more «fresh» swig of cathedral morality...
To be honest, all of the tracks for Magpie And The Dandelion were recorded
during the same sessions that already yielded The Carpenter — which explains why it only took them a year to
follow it up. However, these are not «inferior outtakes»: it turns out that the
Avetts simply decided against a double album (and I, for one, applaud that
decision), postponing official release of half their output to keep the fans
steady and satisfied. Unfortunately, it also complicates the life of the
profane reviewer: thinking of a specific individual character for any Avett Bros. album is already a
chore, and this particular one is just a Siamese twin to its predecessor. You'd
have to allow a decade of development at least to understand what makes one Siamese
twin distinct from the other, wouldn't you?
In terms of individual songs, everything here
rules (it's the Saint Avett Brothers!) and everything here sucks (it's the
fuckin' Saint Avett Brothers!). The very first song announces that "I was
taught to keep an open-ended life / And never trap myself in nothin'" —
one minute you are totally drawn into it, then the next minute you realize
that, at the very least, they have trapped themselves well enough in that
banjo sound, so how does this really work? The second song says that "even
though I know there's hope in every morning song, I have to find that melody
alone". Nicely stated, but how many distinct, original melodies have they
actually found on this record? The third song says that "money won't do
the trick" (okay) "but it will help to open the doors we need it to
help someone else" (if you say so) "still we won't need it to turn
things around" (somebody take a goddamn decision!) and then concludes that
"I've never been alive like I am now" to one of the most limp, slow-dragging
rhythms they could think of.
In short, the Avetts seem confused, and I
suppose this confusion is the most interesting thing on the whole record. The
brothers' usual humility saves them from becoming annoying, but their words are
often disconnected from their music, and the music presents no breakthroughs
since it is not supposed to. "I've got something to say / But it's all
vanity / I found a tune I could play / But it's all vanity" — summarizes
their attitude fairly well, since the inevitable conclusion is that it is
better to say and play nothing than something, and Magpie And The Dandelion is as close a substitute for that option
as it gets. (For that matter, ʽVanityʼ is actually the only song on the album
that somehow stands out — it has an odd, out-of-nowhere, bombastic,
quasi-progressive middle section with a heroic distorted guitar solo; maybe
this is supposed to be a musical allegory for «vanity», because the interlude
does sound vain. It also kicks ass, though).
«Vanity» also shows up with an unexpected live
rendition of ʽSouls Like The Wheelsʼ from The
Second Gleam, performed before an ecstatic audience that goes berserk every
time one of the brothers starts a minimalistic solo — why else would they
bother including this live take if not to let us know how much their fans care
about them? But again, the song is so nice, the "let me go" chorus is
so touching, and even the minimalistic solos are so acoustically pretty that
it's no big problem to forget about the vanity aspect. Come to think of it, St.
Augustin and St. Francis must have been pretty vain, too, or else we wouldn't
be aware of their existence.
Anyway, chalk one more up for the dedicated
fans — the formula still works — but if you already know what the Avetts
sound like and this knowledge has not converted you, the only thing you need to
know is that Magpie And The Dandelion,
despite the exquisite fairy-tale-style title, sounds exactly like everything
else that these lovable, but occasionally nagging, bearded prophets of
«alt-country» have ever done. Personally, I enjoyed every minute of it, but it
didn't exactly help me come up with any insights on any of the songs; and in
the end, I will refrain from a special thumbs up as well — it might just as
well simply share the one I already gave to Carpenter.
Check "Magpie And The Dandelion" (CD) on Amazon
Check "Magpie And The Dandelion" (MP3) on Amazon
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