BECK
Sea Change
DGC/ Universal
· Beck is currently on tour, with the Flaming Lips both opening the show and later serving as his backing band. Life as a groupie takes on a sudden appeal.
Over the course of his varied career, Beck has always operated in tides. For every Odelay and Mellow Gold, there is an "interim" stop-gap filler – the lovely Mutations, the white-noise pastiche of Stereopathic Soul Manure, the ’90s hippie approximation of old-school blues on One Foot In The Grave. If Midnite Vultures was the aural equivalent of the bar star who calls you "sugartits" and spills martinis in your lap, Sea Change is the record for the mo(u)rning after your worst transgressions. Comparisons have already been made (the album is quickly on its way to official status as the hipster’s Blood On The Tracks), but Sea Change’s greatest feat is in finally introducing a genuine heart to Beck’s arsenal of tricks.
Re-teaming with Mutations producer Nigel Godrich (infamously noted for his work behind the board and on laptop for Radiohead), Beck strips Sea Change of the thick pretense under which his work has bubbled since his first basement ghetto recordings, and dollops on layers of cinematic orchestration and unfettered acoustic guitar. It’s as striking, suprising and altogether impressive an about-turn as Bowie’s sudden retreat into Detroit soul on Young Americans. Sea Change is precisely the album we’d always assumed he’d never dare to make, but in pulling it off so beautifully, Beck forever guarantees his place in the annals of modern music.
Sea Change is Beck’s divorce album, written and recorded following his break-up with longtime girlfriend Leigh Limon, a fixture by his side from the days before "Loser" took a run at the top of the Buzz Bin. Like Blur’s 13 – a brilliantly messy first-hand look at the disintegration of Damon Albarn’s relationship with Justine Frischmann of Elastica – Sea Change introduces honest personal statement into the work of a notably distant artist. Gone are the digitized vocals, the streaming non sequitur lyrics, and the mid-song freak-outs – nothing left in place to obscure the meaning.
For a man whose last album’s lyrical occupations revolved around robots screwing and macking your cute younger sister, Sea Change’s instant sombre tone is a bit of a shock. "We’re just holding on to nothing/ To see how long nothing lasts" (from the Isaac Hayes-style gentle funk of "Paper Tiger"), "Baby you’re a lost cause/ I’m tired of fighting" (from the startlingly good "Lost Cause"), "Seen the love you had turning to hate/ Had to act like I didn’t even care" (from "End Of The Day," all gentle strum and fog), "It feels like I’m watching something die," (from the aptly named "Already Dead") – all worlds away from "I’m a loser baby/ So why don’t you kill me?"
Sure, Sea Change may be a bit of a downer, but don’t mistake it for a bitter middle-finger at the horizon. There’s a weary understanding in every turn that all things must eventually come to an end, expressed most solidly in the forgiving send-off in "The Golden Age": "Put your hands on the wheel/ Let the golden age begin." Rather than attack, Sea Change commemorates.
In the cyclical pattern emerging in Beck’s albums, Sea Change’s placement after Midnite Vultures makes complete sense. No matter what you got up to last night, you’ve still got to pull yourself out of bed today and give it a go. Sea Change sees Beck giving it his best shot and refusing to simply drift away.
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