Beck's Post-Success Stress

On the heels of a smash success, any new album is like a second date. Everyone has had time to mull things over and to build up unreasonable expectations. Things went so well the last time, but that only makes the pressure even greater. You have to live up to that great first impression, every nuance can suddenly turn self-conscious and, worst of all, you can finally make that big blunder that you miraculously avoided last time round. Beck's new album, Mutations, suffers from these post-success symptoms all over the place. Rather than depart too much from his established persona or strain too hard to maintain his position at the forefront of the electronica vanguard, Beck holds back like a worried date, making minimal headway in order to wreak minimal havoc. No hard core fans will be distressed by the modest, competent roots rock that dominates Mutations, but it won't be winning any Grammy's this year.

Our last date with Beck Hansen, his smash album Odelay, was one of those classic affairs in which everything seemed to go perfectly. God knows we weren't expecting it. Last time we checked, he had been merely a folksy geek with the catchphrase of consummate apathy: "I'm a loser, baby, so why don't you kill me?"

Catchy, sure, but do you really want to bring him home to meet the folks? Still, against all odds, on Odelay, Beck managed to pull from his grab bag of idiosyncracies something somehow coherent, edgy and adorable all at the same time. Maybe it was the lovable geeky cowboy thing, or all that talk of him capturing the zeitgeist. Truth be told, we always did grin at that line about him being a loser and he always had been something of a likable maverick. His first album, Mellow Gold, introduced his sound: blending rural rockabilly and urban jangle into a casual aesthetic of sloppy cool. Mixing old school rap styling with twangy roots rock sounds, and fusing it all to an lo-fi punk philosophy, Beck wandered into the limelight as the ultimate slacker geek, announcing his own cheerful uselessness. His clueless sound had a certain novelty appeal, but he seemed less like a suave rock star than like a rock star's whiny younger brother, whose upstart nonsense was original, but couldn't be taken too seriously.

However, moving from mellow acoustic ramblings into ingenious electronic sound collage, Beck demanded everyone's undivided attention with Odelay. Collaborating with the Dust Brothers-whose everything-but-the-kitchen-sink production methods had already revolutionized the Beastie Boys album Paul's Boutique--Beck crafted an album that sounded like it came from somewhere between Memphis, Manhattan and Mars. The country rambler was still here, but now he was hobnobbing with bubbling psychedelic guitars, booming hip-hop tracks and distorted space-age bleeps. Splashed through with enough classic soul samples to put Stax Records back in business, Odelay was a manifesto for eclectic electronica, busting out all over the place with the joy of being retrospective and fresh and whimsical. Odd pieces were all there--funk, jazz, roots rock, old-school rap, nonsense lyrics--but suddenly they sounded compatible, credible and organic. The self-proclaimed loser was suddenly "the enchanting wizard of rhythm," devouring and reinventing 50 years of American pop music in one democratic bite. If Beck had lassoed the presumed spirit of Generation-X cool with his way-ward loser persona, the massive sound collage of Odelay put Beck even a step ahead of the zeitgeist. This was the sound of the future--just like the past, only hipper, more eclectic and with even more banjos.

In the sizable wake of Odelay, electronic bleeps and samples became downright universal in pre-millennial pop music, from groove laden trip-hop to the latest Natalie Imbruglia pop confection. What could Beck do to follow up his inspired, trendsetting hodgepodge? Judging from his modest Mutations, he slacked off, mellowed out and indulged himself rather than delivering another jolt of noise for the twenty-first century. The album is awfully pleasant, even affecting, with the rich twang of slideguitars, the whine of a harmonica and theoccasional exotic instrument imported to shakethings up a little. Beck is nearly as playful asever, but no song on Mutations has theremarkable freshness of Odelay. When a songmakes a musical allusion--like the sitar melody onthe desolate "Nobody's Fault But My Own," whichechoes the Door's "The End"--it comes out soundingless like a tribute than an affectation. Even onthe album's best tracks, like the outstanding"Tropicalia" which bounces with an up-tempoLatin-lounge groove, Beck doesn't expand anymusical horizons, but only refines a sound he hasalready brought to fruition.

Certainly, Mutations will not disappointany Odelay fan. Joyful juxtapositions arestrewn throughout the album: harmonicas andharpsichords, slide guitars and synthesizers,rural blues and robotic buzzes. The musicalcanvas, as on Odelay, is rich and broad.Yet, the mellowness of the album dampens theclimate of carefree experimentation struggling toemerge. Even the song titles--"Static," "LazyFlies," "Dead Melodies"--indicate the vibe ofdeflated indolence that restrains the album fromexploding with fresh ideas. Lyrics onMutations exchange the trenchant absurdistinsights of Odelay for a strained maturityand faux wisdom, as when Beck writes, "Doldrumsare pounding/Cheapskates are clowning this town."The belabored cuteness of the imagery and Beck'sstilted delivery lack the authenticity ofOdelay at even its most oblique.

Ironically, Beck only recovers the exhilaratingintensity of Odelay on the energetic bonusmusic hidden at the end of the disc, whererockabilly folk, distorted guitars, space-agesynthesizers and percussive clutter suddenlyconverge into startling vividness, the first ofBeck's mutations of rock on the album truly tolive and breathe.

It can hardly be accidental that this brilliantmusical thunderbolt occurs after the album hasofficially ended. Mutations, Beck implies,is no monumental sequel to Odelay; theseMutations are just enjoyable moments on theway to the Next Big Thing. The real second datewith Beck Hansen, so to speak, is still to come.If this album isn't Odelay: The Return,perhaps it shouldn't have to be. The loose soundof Mutations has its own ample pleasures:unpretentious, old-fashioned, out-of-tune, like anamusing detour off the highway across America. Thetumultuous vanguard Beck created on Odelaywill still be there, hopefully, when he goeshunting for it. And so, hopefully, will we.Photo courtesy of GeffenBECK MUTATIONS

Certainly, Mutations will not disappointany Odelay fan. Joyful juxtapositions arestrewn throughout the album: harmonicas andharpsichords, slide guitars and synthesizers,rural blues and robotic buzzes. The musicalcanvas, as on Odelay, is rich and broad.Yet, the mellowness of the album dampens theclimate of carefree experimentation struggling toemerge. Even the song titles--"Static," "LazyFlies," "Dead Melodies"--indicate the vibe ofdeflated indolence that restrains the album fromexploding with fresh ideas. Lyrics onMutations exchange the trenchant absurdistinsights of Odelay for a strained maturityand faux wisdom, as when Beck writes, "Doldrumsare pounding/Cheapskates are clowning this town."The belabored cuteness of the imagery and Beck'sstilted delivery lack the authenticity ofOdelay at even its most oblique.

Ironically, Beck only recovers the exhilaratingintensity of Odelay on the energetic bonusmusic hidden at the end of the disc, whererockabilly folk, distorted guitars, space-agesynthesizers and percussive clutter suddenlyconverge into startling vividness, the first ofBeck's mutations of rock on the album truly tolive and breathe.

It can hardly be accidental that this brilliantmusical thunderbolt occurs after the album hasofficially ended. Mutations, Beck implies,is no monumental sequel to Odelay; theseMutations are just enjoyable moments on theway to the Next Big Thing. The real second datewith Beck Hansen, so to speak, is still to come.If this album isn't Odelay: The Return,perhaps it shouldn't have to be. The loose soundof Mutations has its own ample pleasures:unpretentious, old-fashioned, out-of-tune, like anamusing detour off the highway across America. Thetumultuous vanguard Beck created on Odelaywill still be there, hopefully, when he goeshunting for it. And so, hopefully, will we.Photo courtesy of GeffenBECK MUTATIONS