Beck – Modern Guilt

Interscope Records 2008

Rating: 8/10

The pairing of Americana-junk maestro Beck and radical producer extraordinaire Danger Mouse seems at first glance so obvious, so undeniably right, that it’s hard to believe Beck didn’t enlist the mash-up auteur sooner. One is a musician whose defined his career with taking genres apart and splicing them back together with the detritus of culture to create an amalgam that has made for a career as wildly disparate and creative as it is uneven, while the other is a visionary producer who gave remixers everywhere a new lease on life. While Modern Guilt isn’t exactly the masterpiece fans might’ve hoped for, it is one of Beck’s most tightly focused records in years and one that forebodes well for the duo’s partnership.

Modern Guilt is, at first listen, neither as immediately accessible as 2005’s Guero or as sprawling and erratic as 2006’s The Information. Beck’s more expansive urges have been reined in by Danger Mouse’s production, and the result is a concise record that spares no seconds in pointless instrumentation or unnecessary filler. Lyrically and at times musically the album recalls Sea Change’s morose depression, focusing on themes of war, suicide, confusion, and essentially a good number of the world’s problems. Beck’s lyrics have always been a little hard to interpret, but while the songs here are clearly not the most optimistic in Beck’s catalog, they’re nowhere near the self-flagellating grief of Sea Change.

The first half of the record is fantastic, a series of some of the best, most incisive songs Beck has put down. “Orphans” starts off softly with a garage drumbeat and an acoustic guitar strumming along as Beck questions “how can I make new again what rusts every time?” Following song “Gamma Ray” is just as sparse but turns out to be the poppiest song Beck has recorded since Guero’s “Girl,” a chugging surf-rock guitar propelling a simple yet effective chorus. “Chemtrails,” the longest song on the record at 4:38, is anchored by a cascading drum rhythm and some of the trippiest vocals on the album. Strangely enough, it reminds me of something would fit right at home on The Flaming Lips’ Yoshimi record.

The title track and “Youthless” continue the album’s strong run, the former a folksy shuffle about the generally bad direction the world is going in spiced up with a few electronic bleeps and a string part, while the latter is an up-tempo, bass-driven jam that is effectively catchy in its skimpy simplicity.

The second half tends to slow down as some of the momentum drops off, but Beck still has a few tricks up his sleeve: namely, the immediately memorable junk-drum and wailing synths on the chorus of “Walls” and the thumping, Western-outlaw vibe of “Soul Of A Man” with its squealing guitar lighting up the track.

“Replica,” however, trips itself up with an out-of-place beat that jitters and jives to the point of exasperation and never really seems to develop beyond its beginnings, while “Profanity Prayers,” mires itself in a boring driving guitar rhythm before redeeming itself with a far more interesting outro. Closer “Volcano” is a slow tale in the mold of “Emergency Exit” from Guero, built on top of a ticking drum machine and an anti-climatic ending that ends Modern Guilt on a melancholic, weak note.

Beck has never been one to be caught empty-handed of fresh ideas, and Modern Guilt proves that his songwriting abilities are still in sharp form. Danger Mouse’s varied and consistently accomplished production makes for an album that is nearly uniformly good while ensuring that Beck’s excesses were funneled into something constructive. Timely and more layered than much of what Beck has recorded in the past few years, Modern Guilt is a promising indication of a great partnership in the making.