Dave Matthews is oftentimes difficult to understand. Somewhere close behind techno music and slutty women, the American frat boy has long been obsessed with their best friend “Dave.” Matthews, the guy that every college-aged beer drinker seems to be pals with, has a quirky habit of slurring his words when addressing his audiences in concert. In the vein of Eddie Vedder, the only distinguishable words one can usually make out aside from drunken (fake or not?) babble are “Thank you very much everybody.” It’s as if this is Matthews’ way of appealing to the notion that a rock star needs to seem as loaded as his audience.
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Dave Matthews Band
|  Entertainment
Art
"Big Whiskey and the Groogrux King"
(RCA)
Released June 2, 2009
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Perhaps reenergized after the sudden loss of saxophonist and founding band member, Leroi Moore, Matthews and company are loud and clear in their message this time around. In the Charlottesville-based band’s sixth major release, Big Whiskey and the Groogrux King, they get their message across —we still got chops.
That’s not to say Moore’s presence doesn’t hang soulfully over Big Whiskey, a dark yet thoroughly rich album that seems to signal a return to the band’s older sound. DMB find themselves falling back to the good ole’ days of recording tight arrangements (think Steve Lillywhite era) with just enough space for slinky funk-greased jams. Not since 1996’s Before These Crowded Streets has the band that spread like wildfire among Gen X’er in the mid 90s, courtesy of grassroots word of mouth, clean recordings and captivating live performances, crafted an album that hits this hard. The string of mediocre albums could potentially be linked to producers’- such as Glen Ballard (Everyday) and Mark Batson (Stand Up)-attempts to redefine the band. But thankfully, Rob Cavallo (Green Day, My Chemical Romance) is able to take fresh songs and give them the appropriate roughness around the edges with his production on Big Whiskey.
At its core, DMB, in large part thanks to Matthews pipes, is and always will be a band that thrives on emotion. And what would generate stronger emotions than the loss of a close friend? The beauty of Big Whiskey is that despite no longer being in the band, Moore, who recorded snippets of material before his tragic passing, is still able to hang his hat on listener’s hearts- from the opening note of the record to the last note on of a hidden track (#35).
A short instrumental “Grux” (a nickname drummer Carter Beauford had for Moore) starts the album with Moore’s pleasantly piercing alto sax, only to be filled out delicately with the slow trills of violinist Boyd Tinsely, Stefan Lessard’s purring bass and drummer Carter Beauford’s catapulting drum rolls. Yet just when one might get welled up, the band explodes into “Shake Me Like a Monkey,” an up-tempo head spinner that signals new things to come. Matthews and longtime guitar buddy Tim Reynolds (who currently tours with DMB) deliver a zigzagging guitar riff, stung with precision by the brass of saxophonist Jeff Coffin (of Bela Fleck and the Flecktones.) and trumpeter Rashon Ross (previously of Soulive), both regular fixtures on DMB summer tours.
Matthews spends much of Big Whiskey coping with Moore’s absence, as he should. In typical fashion, the South African born song-spinner turns to the complexities and contradictions of religion, to find any hint of inner peace. “Tell me everything will be OK /If I just stay on my knees and keep praying” Matthews ponders in “Dive In.” His confusion turns to anger, voice growling with anguish during the climax of “Time Bomb,” as Beauford’s gunshot snare drum violently hovers above. “Baby when I get home/I wanna believe in Jesus/Hammer in the final nail/ But help me pick up the pieces,” Matthews pleas.
The fatalist outlook of “Squirm,” “Your words, your lips/ Not a gun to your head/You're gonna die before you're dead,” will surely resonate with longtime DMB fan’s, now accustomed to the pessimism echoed in Matthews’ lyrics. Yet for all the weighty conclusions offered throughout Big Whiskey, the literal storyteller in Matthews creeps out in the album’s first single “Funny The Way It Is, (“ Funny the way it is, if you think about it/Somebody’s going hungry and someone else is eating out”).
The fact remains though, despite Matthews’ ability to carve profound insights from the darker moments in life, his band shines brightest in times of bliss. “Alligator Pie (Cockidile),”a clever take on the wrath of Hurricane Katrina, is appropriately inserted in an album recorded in New Orleans. The city that rose from the foam inspires the catchy swamp jam that features banjo (courtesy of Danny Barnes) and earthy acoustic rhythms blending in the form of a bluegrass rocker.
It’s truly a battle for Matthews to not write catchy hooks. It’s in his nature. From the tone of Big Whiskey, it is noticeably tough though for him to move on from the loss of a long lost friend. “Why I Am,” a song that almost didn’t make the album, sees Matthews going from denial to acceptance, all while showing off his musical swagger. “It's the you and the me of the world/Only one way out of the world” Matthews insists in the song’s bridge. Moments later, in the song’s emotional apex, all hope is restored. “And when my story ends its gonna end with him/Heaven or Hell I'm goin there with the GrooGrux King.”
It’s too early to see the lasting impact of Moore’s death on the band. But if Big Whiskey is any indication, the late saxophonist’s spirit has freed a gifted songwriter from a period of stagnancy; for as Matthews croons in “My Baby Blue,” “Confess I'm not quite ready to be left/Still, I know I gave my level best.”
The best, whether Matthews can see it now or not, may be yet to come for DMB.
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Chili's Takeout
Written by Guest on 2009-06-22 16:40:43
But they're good cold.... |
Great review
Written by Guest on 2010-01-18 20:54:30
Insightful and well-written. Give this guy a raise! |
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