The release of a new Spiritualized album is always something I greet with the slavish fanboy devotion that, presumably, Pitchfork feels every time Thom Yorke sits down at a piano. Probably this has something to do with the rarity of the occurence - In 18 years this is only the sixth studio album. 3 years is not unreasonable between releases, but when a band is this good, it starts to sometimes feel, presumably, how junkies feel between fixes. Most of the time I try to just imagine that there simply may not ever be another album, which made the lead-up to Songs in A&E all the worse - it was talked about for years, delayed several times (not the least of which was by J Spaceman literally dying twice) and generally had more interviews and speculation surrounding it than a Pavement reunion.
So when I finally obtained it last night, I was bracing myself for failure. To be sure, Amazing Grace had several stunning songs, but taken as a whole felt rather flat when placed alongside their previous three - especially Let It Come Down and Pure Phase which, despite the canonical nature of Ladies and Gentlemen... have always been my favourites.
It is with great relief that I can assure you that this album is not a return to form, but is most certainly a return to the sheer unbridled quality I've come to expect from the Spaceman.
This time around, he is still obsessed with the American South, but the emphasis is on Southern rock and folk hymns rather than gospel and soul - though those elements still come through, particularly on the first "proper" track "Sweet Talk" (I won't discuss the six "Harmony" songs because all are between 20 seconds a a little over a minute and really have no specific reason to exist in my opinion except for the label to boast the album has "18 tracks").
"Death Take Your Fiddle", however, lurches straight into American Gothic territory, Black Heart Procession gone even darker, Sixteen Horsepower with no God in sight. "Think I'll drink myself into a coma, and I'll take every way out I can find. But morphine, codeine, whiskey they won't alter the way I feel now death is not around." It's a brutally honest confession, maybe the closest J has ever come, to admitting that he just doesn't think about the consequences of his famously substance-infused life.
First single "I Gotta Fire" is where the Souther rock comes in, mining the same territory that bands like The Black Crowes did a decade ago, only with much more taste. It's a solid midtempo rocker but feels somewhat out of place.
"Soul On Fire" is a more optimistic take on "Stop Your Crying", more self-assured and assertive. "I've got a hurricane inside my veins and I wanna stay forever". Presumably he's not back on smack, as he had years ago declared those days over (though in the same interview he admitted he just switched to different, less needle-based drugs).
"Sitting On Fire" (apparently "on fire" is his new favourite phrase, replacing the old standard "come on"). It feeds off the same bittersweet love sentiments that "Rated X" did on the last album. E-bowed guitar and immaculate production of background bells and strings may lead to (what I consider the unfair) accusations of "overdone" that plagued Let It Come Down; YMMV.
"Yeah Yeah" brings us back into rock territory, not quite the burner that "The Twelve Steps" was but is enthusiastic and a brief enough little reminder to introduce us to...
"You Lie You Cheat", a bombastic and fuzzed-out accusation against a former friend, lover, or God - who knows? But it works, and is the closest thing to early-era pure-psyche Spiritualized.
"Baby I'm Just a Fool" comes dangerously close to the chord progression of "Walking With Jesus" (though that could entirely be on purpose) but despite, or because, of the similarities it ends up being a lyrical and muscal high point: "So fuckin' self-assured I'd rather let you down than let you go" he sings, right before "There ain't nothin' you could learn that I could need to know" and "I'm just a man but I've got the dreams of gods and kings" - balanced out by trademark Spaceman self-loathing.
"Don't Hold Me Close" is another entry into the self-created genre of slow, sweeping songs of incredible tenderness combined with a sense of doom about any and everything he touches.
If you're familiar with the band at all, you can probably imagine exactly what a song called "The Waves Crash In" would sound like and you would be exactly correct. "Baby I've been staggering, but lately I've been staggering back" sums it up.
"Borrowed Your Gun" could be yet another veiled reference to self-destruction, or it could just be a strange way of J addressing, for the first clear time, his childhood. Either way, it works, and crescendos in a satisfying and epic manner, complete with, yes, a gospel choir.
"Goodnight Goodnight" is a workmanlike album ender. Part Christmas hymn and part ode to the Blue Mondays, it is also hopeful and warm. "I'll hold you close, you'll be alive til morning comes" he promises - equally applicable to a lover or anyone listening to this album in their own depression or post-drug haze. Admittedly the effect is somewhat skewed by the last few lines being "funeral home" repeated over and over.
So then, in general, it's a good Spiritualized album, probably even a great one. The songs continue to reflect the age of the songwriter, sounding more and more like a man who never intended to be a rock star, but instead is constantly amazed to wake up every day and not be dead in a gutter. Which makes for some beautiful poetry and a sort of odd modern-day, well, spirituality.
tl;dr - 8.8/10
