Different … But Back to Good? The POV Breakdown of Matchbox Twenty’s North

As promised, here is the first non-football post in awhile. This one was written some time ago (based on the word document time stamp it would have been 03/17/2013 ... but who's counting), but I think it's still a decent review of a good album.

1996 was a great year. The economy was on the upswing. The polarization of politics, while clearly beginning to take on its current form, was nothing compared to today (oh for the days of Newt Gingrich’s “Contract With America,” rather than Rand Paul’s “Hypocrisy For America”). And, of course, the Chicago Bulls were back in action, having completed a 72-10 year which culminated with their fourth NBA championship. That year also saw the release of a new band’s first album, Yourself or Someone Like You. The band, then known as Matchbox 20, had something on their side that made them seem different from much of the pop/rock scene in the mid 1990s. A friend of mine at the time, Matt, was able to put his finger on it sometime later. That something they had was angst, and it permeated the entire album.

It really shouldn’t be a major surprise that Yourself became such a popular album, anymore than it should be a surprise that the album resonated with persons in their teens and twenties during the 1996 through 2000 period that it was at its height. The album was written, in large part, by Rob Thomas, the band’s front man. Thomas was 24 at the time of the album’s release, and, by most accounts, was fairly angst filled in a relative way. A high school drop out, he was raised by his mother after his father pretty much dropped out of his life following a divorce. Thomas’s relationships weren't anything to write home about, and he focused his energy and efforts on becoming a rock star. All of this makes Thomas an every man in most respects. What set him apart was his unique ability to write songs.

Yourself began with the song “Real World,” which became a hit single off the album. This song is something of a chorus to most 24 year old's who are simply struggling to get by, and it resonated on the Top 40 charts. “Long Day,” the first official single off the album, getting rock play, was more of the same. Throughout the other singles (“3 A.M.”, “Push”, and “Back 2 Good”) a common theme is unearthed. The songs paint a picture of an individual, or individuals, who are struggling to figure something out. Whether it’s the real world continuing to hassle them, the exasperation at the end of the day, or the confusion and struggle of finding a meaningful romantic relationship, the hits off of Yourself spoke to young persons coming of age. Digging deeper into the album, and the angst gets deeper, and the feelings illuminate. Perhaps the two best songs on the album, “Kody” and “Hang”, paint this picture brilliantly. And, in the end, Matt’s breakdown still stands: Thomas sounds angry through many of the songs, and listening to the lyrics you can understand why. After five singles, Yourself or Someone Like You not only became one of the surprise contenders for the best album of the 1990s, but it also established Matchbox 20 as a force to be reckoned with.

The slow roll out of the album (released in 1996, picking up momentum in 1997, and blooming fully in 1998) afforded the band years to work on their second album without it really feeling like it took years. Thomas also nailed a mega hit in his collaboration with Carlos Santana, as “Smooth” won Thomas three Grammy Awards. By 2000 there was a good deal of build up for the Sophomore effort by the band. Now known as Matchbox Twenty, Mad Season became that 2^nd album. The first song was a great indicator of the change that had occurred in Thomas’s life in the years between 1996 and 2000; entitled “Angry,” the lyrics state “it’s good that I’m not angry anymore.” If only that was the truth. Mad Season lacked the edge of the band’s first effort, and it showed.

Of course, Thomas continued to be the lead writer, and his life had changed considerably since 1996. Now married, and happily so, Thomas was 28 and much seemed much more comfortable in life. That comfort showed in the lyrics and mood of the album. The first single, “Bent,” had a bit of the attitude found on Yourself, but the rest of the album felt very different. Whereas the first album could be described as a unique blend of rock, pop and alternative, the second album felt much more straight pop. Thomas’s skills in writing a catchy song continued to be highlighted, but the album left something to be desired for many fans. The radio play for the album also paled in comparison to Yourself.

The group came together much quicker for their third effort, More Than You Think You Are. The album played with more edge than Mad Season, but seemed to lack in the lyrical department compared with both predecessors. The group then went their separate ways for awhile, and Thomas released Something to Be as a solo effort. More than anything, Something made clear that Rob Thomas was a pop writer of great skill. When the group reunited for a greatest hits compilation (which included a few new tracks) Exile on Mainstream they went on tour. It was then that I first went to see Matchbox Twenty live, in 2008.

I expected something rather lacking, as it seemed to me that every step along the way the band had lost a bit of what had made its’ first effort great. Instead, I was blown away by the energy that Thomas brought to the stage, and by how well the band played together. I thoroughly enjoyed the show, and was hopeful that the tour would bring energy to the band’s creative development, perhaps leading to a new album. More than that, I was hopeful that if there was another album, it would be worthy of being held up alongside Yourself. Instead, the band again took “time away” and Thomas released a second solo effort, Cradlesong. Honestly, I’m not even sure if I knew that he released that album before I started researching the group for the post. At the least, I can say that I, for the first time, didn’t go out and buy a new Matchbox Twenty/Rob Thomas album. And the group subsequently faded from my field of vision.

As I said when I reviewed the most recent Dave Matthews Band Album, Away From The World, I am a big believer that angst drives powerful music. My favorite Billy Joel songs seem to have been written at a time in his life when he was pretty unhappy. One album, written when he was … ahem … “seeing” Christie Brinkley, seemed to be written when Joel was particularly happy. That album, An Innocent Man happens to be one of Joel’s best selling albums. It also happens to suck. (Side note: how in the hell did Billy Joel end up … “seeing” … both Elle Macpherson and Christie Brinkley?) One day, while surfing the web I noticed that Matchbox Twenty had a new album, North, coming out in 2012. After getting it, I put it in …

… and was pleasantly surprised. The album features twelve songs, with a wide variety of feel. The first song, “Parade,” starts the album with good energy. More than anything, the bridge of the song has a 1990s Top 40 feel, giving the song a feel of a song that could have held its’ own on Yourself or Someone Like You, sort of a combination of “Real World” and “Long Day”. The next song, “She’s So Mean,” was the first single off the album, and felt a bit like a popped up version of “Girl Like That.” But the real strength of this album was how the band seemed to integrate parts of prior albums that worked with new takes on pop music. “Overjoyed,” the third song on the album and the second single released, took the slow pop approach that the group first displayed on Mad Season and shined it up a bit. Then, after three songs that can easily be compared to prior work, the band placed the song “Put Your Hands Up,” which is a bit more unique. One can almost imagine the group listening to the radio, hearing the most recent dance club pop song, and saying “I bet we can do that.” This song is a great illustration of Thomas’s ability to write pop music for whatever the occasion requires.

Track five, “Our Song,” brings my mind to some songs the Goo Goo Dolls have written in recent years, only it’s far better than anything the Goo Goo Dolls have done. It has a manic feel, pushing through the chorus time and again. The group then presents the song “I Will,” which slows the pace down and simply showcases Thomas’s voice. With simple piano and guitar plucking guiding him along, the song also serves as a bit of an intermission to the album. The next track, “English Town,” fits as the group’s attempt at a big, dark beast of a song. The transitions between the soft verse with haunting piano and the powerful choruses are like night and day. The song also feels a bit like a unique cross between a song like “Kody” and “Rest Stop.”

After the darker presentation of “English Town” the album then moves on to a simple, short, poppy song in “How Long.” The ninth track, “Radio,” plays well and takes the listener back to the time when listening to the radio was the way to find out about new music, rather than downloading the songs on iTunes or shuffling through Pandora. “The Way,” the first track without Thomas on the vocals, has the feel of an 80s song, and does the job of feeling out of place, yet somehow right. At this point, ten songs in, and without a weak link, the band only needs a solid finisher to round off the album.

The eleventh track, “Like Sugar” feels like a song off of their third album, which naturally makes it one of the weaker songs on the album. But the listener will quickly forget about this when the end track, “Sleeping at the Wheel” comes on. This song has a unique feel, almost a merging of “Leave” and “Hang.” In reality, the song provides an emphatic answer to the angst of Yourself or Someone Like You. It is the mature Matchbox Twenty (and, really, Thomas) answering the confusion and anger of youth with the resolute answer of adulthood:

And now these hands are tied
I can't help thinking
That I was in a daze, I was losing my place
I was screaming out at everything

In February 2013, the day before Valentine’s day, I went to see Matchbox Twenty a second time. My fiancé (UPDATE: she's now my wife!) got us tickets for Christmas, and so we went to a much smaller venue than the first time I saw them and settled in. As we waited for the group to take the stage, I overheard that the next day was Rob Thomas’s birthday. His 41^st birthday. And I realized that, for me, he had been pretty much stuck in my mind. In 1996. When the first album was written he was 24, angst filled, and unsure about where he was headed. Now, at 40, he writes this most recent album, and life is different. And what is he, and what is the band? Thomas is one of the best pop writers alive today, and Matchbox Twenty is one vehicle which he uses to get that music out. During the show, after playing “Real World” Thomas announced “we’re going to stay in 1996 for the next few songs” and the crowd, predictably, went nuts. We all wanted to stay in 1996 as well. But the band wasn’t going to play Yourself or Someone Like You front to back, and a unique thing happened: the biggest crowd responses were for the songs off the first album, but the songs off of North seemed to register next in terms of popularity (with the possible exception of “Bent” and, perhaps, “Bed of Lies”). And, so, having taken it all it, I can give the following assessment of the album:

North is not Yourself or Someone Like You. It is different, and it illustrates Thomas’s ability to write a variety of pop songs and styles. But it is comfortable to a Matchbox Twenty fan, and it plays well front to back. And, in a way, it might be seen as an excellent merging of a more mature Matchbox Twenty with their angst filled past. Thomas (and company) may not be angry anymore, but they may have also reached their musical apex. And they still put on one hell of a show.

Album Breakdown:

                                  Parade – 5/5

                   She’s So Mean – 4/5

                   Overjoyed – 3/5

                   Our Song – 3.5/5

                    I Will – 4.5/5

                   English Town – 4.5/5

                 How Long – 3.5/5

                  Radio – 3.5/5

1               The Way – 3/5

1                Like Sugar – 3/5

                Sleeping At The Wheel – 5/5

Total: 3.8/5 album rating

Losing The Fire: The P.O.V. Review of "Away From The World"

Growing up listening to Dave Matthews Band I wore my copy of Under the Table and Dreaming out. Listening to the album on my walkman, I grew to appreciate the complexity of the music, the use of the sax and violin, and the driving, pushing music mixed in with slower songs. The album flowed, and it was just enjoyable.

The second album the band released (Crash; although Remember Two Things technically precedes both albums) had a bit more edge, but still produced the mix of larger scale songs and slower tracks. By 1998's Before These Crowded Streets I was all in on Dave Matthews Band. While that album took me the better part of a decade to truly appreciate, there is no doubt that the complexities that permeate the first two albums continued through the third installment.

By the release of Everyday, (following the benching of The Lillywhite Sessions; eventually released in slightly watered down form as Busted Stuff) the band seemed to be searching for a different direction. Everyday's pop centric feel was a stark departure from the first three albums, and Stand Up's highly political feel seemed much smaller scale than what the band had been capable of. While most fans agree that 2009's Big Whiskey and the Groo-Grux King was an inspired effort, even this return to glory of sort left true fans longing for something.

But what? As the band "took off" the summer of 2011 to focus on developing a new album most fans took the news to be what it appeared to be on the surface: the band had ground out 20 years of seemingly endless touring, and so they deserved a year off. Yet, between the lines cracks were showing: many members of the band seemed to questioning taking time off. In Charlottesville, VA, in the penultimate show of the 2010 tour Dave himself dropped perhaps the biggest piece of information to that end. That night, in the midst of perhaps the best two night stand the band had put together since the early 2000s, Dave discussed the Band's decision to take a year off. He reflected on on the death of founding band member and close friend Leroi Moore, and then stated that he sometimes wondered "what the hell" he was doing by taking a year off. As a member of that sold out arena that night I can tell you that the general feeling from the crowd was pretty much the same.

In that moment you could see the starts of the ambivalence that Dave feels towards his career at the present time. Throughout the subsequent "off" year (composed of four "Caravans" where the band played three night stands in New Jersey, Chicago, New York (four nights, counting the hurricane), and the Gorge) showed a great deal of energy from Dave, giving hope to the idea that time off, plus some creative studio time, was going to help build on Big Whiskey's momentum and lead to a Renaissance of sorts for the band. Coupled with the news that Steve Lillywhite, the producer of the first three albums as well as much of the material which ended up surviving The Lillywhite Sessions to make the Busted Stuff cut, would be producing the album, expectations were sky high for the new album.

And it was under that set of expectations that the 2012 summer tour began. All outward indication was that the band had missed touring the country (Stefan even indicated that he disliked the caravan set up so much that it wouldn't happen again). A smaller, more compact summer tour schedule was released, which was a bit of a head scratcher, but made some sense given the equally surprising announcement that the album wouldn't be released until September, after the summer tour. Perhaps the band was still working on material, wanted to road test some of it, and was planning on using a lighter schedule to help put the finishing touches on the new album.

The first new song confirmed to be on the album was "Mercy," which made its' debut on the Jimmy Falon show staring President Obama. The song felt eerily like a souped up, slower version of the same political sentiment that got the band into trouble with 2005's Stand Up, but it was just one song, and it was one song played without the band backing Dave up. The second track released, "Gaucho," was dropped in typical DMB fashion: a free release to members of the fan association on the evening of the first summer tour show. The song continued with the political theme, but involved the full band to create a great sound behind the struggling chorus lines. Still, if one had to surmise Dave's central thesis after two songs, it could be pretty easily drawn from the two songs released as being "Obama hasn't followed through, the world is going to hell, we've got to do this ourselves or else our kids won't believe in the possibility for change."

The quality musicianship behind "Gaucho" hid this overall lack of driving lyrics well, but the ensuing debuts of "If Only" and "The Riff" served only to misdirect it. The band felt like it was being kept with a muzzle on it at times throughout these songs. It was almost the opposite of the way that Big Whiskey managed to make the band the dramatic center of the group again. Coupled with the confirmation that "Sweet," a song which I saw the debut of at the Chicago caravan the year before, was going to be on the album, and suddenly we were roughly halfway through an unreleased album. Taking stock of it I came to the conclusion that this album would most likely not resonate with me right now, but would be much more meaningful in ten years. I came to this conclusion because much of the material seemed to center lyrically on a depressed melancholy mood wondering if the world was going to hell, what that would mean for one's children, and how to keep the spark alive in one's marriage.

There was even precedent for this: as mentioned above, it took me until my college years to fully appreciate the lyrical depth found in Before These Crowded Streets; whereas I initially thought the album lacked compared to the first two, I now hold the opinion that it is probably the group's crowing achievement. And so I prepared to digest the rest of the album through this schema, expecting to be underwhelmed by the album.

Meanwhile, I saw the group seven times throughout the summer, mostly coming away impressed by the shows. The first show, in Cleveland, was not great, but was salvaged by a Halloween/Tripping Billies encore. This encore would become a semi-staple of the summer tour, perhaps an indicator that the group (which had generally buried Halloween) was trying to make fans happy. Conversely, it could also be an indicator that the group was running cold and needed to bust out songs they usually saved for special occasions to drive up fan reaction. The show in Virginia Beach wasn't bad, and the two night stops in Noblesville and East Troy both lived up to their high standards. The final show, in Detroit, used the same ending of Halloween and Billies to drive up the crowd energy which had been somewhat lacking. Through seven shows I'm still not sure what to make of the group, but it seems like they were having to work harder to make average crowds happy (Cleveland, VA Beach and Detroit) but were able to play like they used to in front of crowds they felt safe with (Noblesville, East Troy).

And then, finally, the album was released. Not surprisingly, the music of the album was restrained, but great when it was allowed to shine ("Belly, Belly Nice," "Broken Things" and "Drunken Soldier" in particular shine through). Surprisingly, however, the lyrics were even worse than the first five songs would have suggested. Sluggish, feeling half baked, the lyrics often seemed to lack the full development you'd expect of a finished album. Many songs have choruses which lack depth, and even songs (like "Drunken Soldier") which seem to be on the verge of traditional DMB big scale lyrical genius end up falling short.

So what does it all mean? I firmly believe, particularly after reading and listening to a number of interviews with Dave it is painfully evident that the lead man of the band is not sure he wants to continuing doing this. The anticipation over a fall tour which looks more and more like it won't happen only serves to drive this point home: new album, with it's strength in the playing of the band, and there is no pending tour. Matthews lyrics are completely lacking, and the band feels muzzled and incapable of overcoming the lacking lyrics. Is it really a surprise that the members of the band who seem most invested in continuing to create more music (Carter, Stefan, and probably Rashawn Ross) are being held back by the front man who's name and voice is the central part of the band?

Compare this to Pearl Jam, with lead singer Eddie Vedder, who manage to continue to pump out new music and reinvent themselves through the years. Whereas Eddie continues to find new ways to express old sentiments, as well as new subjects to explore, Dave Matthews seems mired in... happiness. When you look at the songs that bring the best out of Dave's lyrical development, there is typically two inspiring forces doing the driving. The first is angst: whether of lost love, drug abuse, or confusion over life in general, angst is a central and dark passenger on many classic DMB tracks. The second force, big scale political/spiritual issues has led to the other classic DMB tracks. But now, with a wife, three children, and a comfortable lifestyle, Dave lacks the angst necessary and seems uninterested by tackling the bigger issues.

Sure, he'll take on Obama's failings and the issues with American politics, but he's doing so in a small scale, "Mercy" sort of way. Even his bigger picture attempts, such as the verses in "Gaucho" which paint a beautiful picture of human cultural/political development, he comes to a chorus which simply implores that we "gotta do much more than believe if we really wanna change things." Compare this with the burning drive in "Last Stop" or the melancholic summary of human development in "Dreaming Tree" and you find that "Gaucho" is loaded with potential, yet is impotent due to lacking lyrics.

And, honestly, Dave Matthews deserves this. Great music generally stems from the angst experienced by the musicians or witnessed by them. Dave hit the nail on the head in the pop single "Funny the Way it is" off of Big Whiskey when he mused that "somebody's broken heart becomes your favorite song." When Dave wrote songs about his broken heart, or about his lack of certainty over why we exist, or about where society is going wrong, or why there is war in the Middle East and even humanizing Christ, we could all relate. These were songs the average person could put on and say "yeah, I get it." The vast majority of people can relate to falling on their knees begging someone, anyone to help them make sense of it all, and fearing their own mortality ("When I was young I never think about it, now I can't get it out of my mind"). Now? Dave writes lyrics about things he thinks he should write things about. He's trying to write about broken hearts, but more through the schema of marriage rather than the angst of not having anyone. He writes about his son growing up, but doesn't seem to have a voice to lend to it. He still tries to tackle political issues, but seems to be throwing his hands up and saying "well, I don't know what to do, but I know it's not this, and I'm just not happy with it." He touches on the uncertainty our existence, but the gets lazy with the lyrics (again, "Drunken Soldier").

In sum, Dave Matthews lacks the fire he did when he was younger. This summer he seemed happy to rest on his reputation by busting out all the rarely played epic favorites he knew would fire the crowd up. I wonder now if the band didn't do that because they understood that their mini-renaissance in Big Whiskey was driven by an angst (following Leroi Moore's death) that they couldn't keep going. Dave is happy, comfortable, and tired of the pressure of touring and developing new songs. I think he doesn't want to go there anymore because his angst, the great energy behind the group's high points, is far behind him. Whereas Pearl Jam has managed to reinvent themselves through the years, Dave Matthews Band still is what it always was. The recipe just doesn't work as well when you try to mix it without the fire.

Album Breakdown:

1. Broken Things - 3.5/5
2. Belly Belly - 3/5
3. Mercy - 2/5
4. Gaucho - 3/5
5. Sweet - 3/5
6. The Riff - 3.5/5
7. Belly Full - 4/5
8. If Only - 3.5/5
9. Rooftop - 3/5
10. Snow Outside - 3.5/5
11. Drunken Soldier - 4.5/5

Total: 3.3/5 album rating

What We've All Been Waiting For - Big Whiskey

I'll never forget laying in my bedroom at night listening to the radio. Throughout my elementary years, and into my Jr. high experience, I listened to a "Top 40" station in northern Indiana (U93). Consider that this was back when U93 advertised itself as "today's best music, and none of the rap" (a description that very suddenly changed somewhere in my high school years). Anyway, back to the story: me, laying in my bedroom, listening to the radio. Every night I would lay there listening, and I have a ton of songs which stick with me. How else could I remember epic band names like Toad the Wet Sprocket or Primitive Radio Gods or The Gin Blossoms? Perhaps the song I most remember on the radio was Billy Joel's last big hit, "River of Dreams." But I'll never forget hearing one particular song, which opened with a light strumming of an acoustic guitar. The guitar play went on for what seemed life forever, softly building into the first lyric of the song: "Satellite."

My introduction to Dave Matthews Band was the song "Satellite." I loved its simplicity, its softness, and it tied in with my love of looking to the heavens, established at a young age in the woods of Effingham, IL. I can't remember how soon after I first heard "Satellite" I obtained the cassette of Under The Table and Dreaming, but I was quickly consumed with the album. From the first song, "Best of What's Around" through the last track, "#34," the album played to perfection. At the age of 8 I knew that this album was excellence, and then, at the age of 10, I was quick to purchase the second album by Dave Matthews Band, Crash. These two cassette tapes made countless trips with me in my walkman, and I learned them both front and back.

The band's 1998 release, Before These Crowded Streets was a critical success, but a bomb for me. Now at the ripe old age of 12, the album was too complex for me to fully understand. It was the first album by DMB that I purchased on CD (I had also purchased the band's first release, Remember Two Things, on cassette), and I quickly updated to CD versions of and Under the Table and Crash. Only once I reached college did I fully delve back into Crowded Streets and begin to realize how it may have been the most complete studio album DMB put out. When viewed through a more mature lens there is no doubt that it deserves a place alongside the first two studio releases.

But from Crowded Streets on DMB seemed to be lacking something. Admittedly, they are a touring band, and the songs they play live are almost always far superior to their studio versions. Still, the 2001 release of Everyday was lacking in many ways; 2002's Busted Stuff had some great songs, but wasn't on the same level as the first three albums. By 2005 I was psyched for new stuff ... and was hugely disappointed by Stand Up, an album that admittedly plays decently live, but leaves a ton to be desired in the CD player. It seemed that something was missing, and that it had been since 1998. Then we heard that a new album was to be released in 2007 ... then in 2008. It kept getting pushed back. Rumors of Dave leaving the band were spread. One began to wonder if a three album arch was all the group had together, and if their love of touring each summer had drained them of the ability to produce a quality album.

But it appears the demise of the band, however rooted in truth it may have been, was overstated. Through the tragedy that was the untimely death of saxophonist LeRoi Moore, the band persevered. The release date was confirmed, and for the first time in four years (honestly it felt much longer than that) there was a new album out. Big Whiskey and the GrooGrux King was a "must purchase the day it comes out" event for me. I bought it, tore the plastic off, and popped it in my car's CD player. I listened to it inside on my old stereo I probably haven't used in four years. I eventually put it on my IPod. It led me to make an MP3 disc of all of DMB's studio albums for my car's MP3 player, but somehow I keep coming back to Big Whiskey.

The album is, quite honestly, the one we've been waiting for. It is on par with the first three releases, and I can't recommend it highly enough. From the opening Sax solo the album grabs you. The album has a song for almost every mood. Perhaps the most unlikely, as well as the most impressive song is "Time Bomb." The song plays just like a Pearl Jam song, down to the explosion at the end as Dave wails out in Eddie Vedder form. The electric guitar solos on the album are unlike anything we've seen from the group, and all the parts you expect from DMB are there. Except, of course, Moore. But, as Dave sings:

"It's why I am still here dancing with the GrooGrux King. We'll be drinking big whiskey while we dance and sing. And when my story ends, it's gonna end with him. Heaven or hell, I'm going down with the GrooGrux King."

And so, for the first time in my life, I will head to Verizon Wireless to see both nights of the DMB stay in Noblesville. I am so excited I can't hardly sit still. Even if this is all there is, this band has solidified their place in mainstream American music. They are, in my opinion, the definitive band of the past fifteen years. In an era of pop, R&B, and bad rap they have persevered. I can't recommend this album highly enough.

Album Rating: 10/10