Avett Brothers
(American Recordings/Columbia)
The grumbling started early, even by typical backlash standards. When it was announced back in July of 2008 that North Carolina roots upstarts the Avett Brothers had inked a deal with American/Columbia and that svengali-to-the-stars Rick Rubin would be producing their followup to 2007's Emotionalism, music blogs and message boards lit up - much of the commentary negative and running along lines of "Sony will force them to play the major label pop game" and "Rubin will smooth out all the rough edges that make the Avetts the Avetts."
And when the initial fruit of the Rubin-helmed sessions, the single "I and Love and You," appeared this summer, many of those preemptive armchair quarterbacks no doubt felt their worst fears confirmed. The track, a subtly sentimental meditation on the power of words disguised as a Brooklyn travelogue and cast as a McCartneyesque piano ballad, contained nary a trace of the Avetts' trademark banjo-guitar raucousness, and their free-floating, freak-flag harmonies had been replaced by a solemn/sober vocal line. Cue up more forum pronouncements - although this time, with actual aural content to chew on, it seemed that a lot of other Avetts fans were willing to give the band the benefit of the doubt, and if one mark of an artist is that there's been a cultivation of trust among those who follow the artistry, well...
So yes, the Avetts' sound has changed - at least for this record, as the band's concerts remain tent-revival affairs. I and Love and You is frontloaded with some of the mellowest tunes the band has ever recorded; it's not until four tracks in, with the gospel-soul of "And It Spread," that they even near a midtempo, and then it's another three before the beat could be described as "up," on the jittery caffeine pop of "Kick Drum Heart" (ironically, the weakest track, a kind of Billy Joel-styled thump ‘n' fluff that, while admittedly infectious, probably works better live).
Truth be told, though, while I and Love and You is suffused in an almost Zen-like restraint, there's still a fervor, a roaring passion lurking just beneath the surface that will be familiar to anyone who's followed the Avett Brothers thus far. It's worth noting that appearances have frequently been deceiving for the group, often described (incorrectly) as a kind of amped-up, bluegrassy outfit when in fact the Avetts could more accurately be described as a traditional singer/songwriter(s) rock combo with certain string-band elements lining the edges. Even those frenetic concerts have come to carry a whiff of urban legend to them, for as producer Rubin recently told BLURT, "At the shows I've seen, the audience has been louder than the band. The shows have a spiritual fervor about them. It's interesting how loud, active, energetic and rambunctious the audience gets for a relatively quiet acoustic performance."
The 13-song album, mossy and warm, full of breathing room and plenty of space for individual voices and instruments to flex, locates itself at the Venn intersection of the Kinks' Muswell Hillbillies, Rod Stewart's Gasoline Alley and Tom Petty's Wildflowers (the latter, perhaps not all that coincidentally, also produced by Rubin), three records whose entry points tend to be as much their subtlety and self-containment as the actual musicality upon display. As with the single, throughout the album a number of typical Avetts deployments have been dialed back in the interest of refinement, but that shouldn't be taken to mean mainstreamed; in interviews the band has made it clear that that the intention from the outset was to achieve a clarity and a directness that perhaps they'd eschewed in the past in their pursuit of one-take spontaneity and immediacy.
With both Scott and Seth Avett taking lead vocals on the tunes they respectively wrote and their voices pushed well to the front of the mixes, they've also achieved, in their words, "music you can grasp hold of because there's no mistaking what the person is saying and presenting." The songwriters have frequently been lauded for their poetic, nakedly emotional lyrics (that 2007 album title wasn't coincidental), and that element of their aesthetic is amplified here through a careful (but not "calculated") vocal delivery that compels the listener to home in on the words. The net result is a musical setlist that doesn't exhaust - on previous records it sometimes felt like the band was racing full-tilt from the outset - but one which beckons and gradually, inexorably, seduces.
Which means, for the Avetts fan with patience, the highlights are many. Following the titular opening track, Seth's tenderly romantic "January Wedding," about his nuptials earlier this year, lopes into earshot; here, Scott's banjo, plucked sparingly, nestles alongside Bob Crawford's reassuring upright bass pulse to give the tune a discernibly rustic feel. "Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise" then arrives as an early peak - the waltz-time anthem's stately antebellum vibe - shades of the aforementioned Petty album - and elegant piano/cello arrangement (strings courtesy "4th Avett" Joe Kwon) lending gravitas to Scott's striking lyric images of confusion and fear being leavened by hope and dreams:
There's a darkness
upon me that's flooded in light
In the fine print they tell me what's wrong and what's right
And it comes in black and it comes in white
And I'm frightened by those that don't see it
When nothing is owed or deserved or expected
And your life doesn't change by the man that's elected
If you're loved by someone, you're never rejected
Decide what to be and go be it.
Equally lovely is Scott's "Ten Thousand Words," one of the more unusual IALAY tracks with its round-singing, counterpoint vocals (a key line, repeated until it's no longer an offhand observation but an expression of humility, goes, "Ain't it like most people? I'm no different - we love to talk on things we don't know about") and a Brit-folk guitar-mandolin motif underscored by spectral organ. The tune that probably comes the closest to sounding like it could have come from an earlier Avetts album like Emotionalism or 2004's Mignonette is Seth's "It Goes On and On," jaunty with a Kinks-ian (!) dancehall feel, and boasting those brotherly harmonies that threaten to spill off the page in their exuberance.
Trust the artist: Take additional note of the album's internal rhythm (relax, breathe deeply); attend its melodic and harmonic nuances (dig deep); and don't be afraid of its sleeper qualities (most songwriter records that have stood the test of time don't bludgeon). That the conversion quotient for new fans will ratchet up considerably is no cause for alarm, either. These Avett Brothers, they got a big tent; there's room for everyone.
Speaking of which, Avetts die-hards won't go wanting: there's a "Deluxe Box" edition featuring assorted gee-gaws (photos, lithographs, a bandana, vinyl and MP3 versions of the record) along with a bonus CD containing demos of six IALAY tunes: "Kick Drum Heart," "Tin Man," "The Perfect Space," "More Of You" "And It Spread" and "Ten Thousand Words." Given how nigh-on flawless the album proper is, these extras are hardly essential, but the box is further evidence that this is a band still in touch with its rabid fanbase and eager to acknowledge the level of dedication.
Now the real work begins: retaining that fanbase, protective as ever and more than a tad territorial, in the face of what virtually every observer - yours truly, included - is predicting will be a significant shift to the next commercial level. Hold on tight lads, it's going to be a crazy ride.
Standout Tracks: "Ten Thousand Words," "Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise," "It Goes On and On" FRED MILLS
Photo of the Avetts in Charleston last month by Michael Plumides. The new issue of BLURT features the Avett Brothers on the cover. On newsstands everywhere, now.
