Farrar, The Search take on present states, future
Published March 16, 2007
Something about America makes Jay Farrar upset.
Maybe it's the overbearing presence of Wal-Mart and other corporate conglomerates or the dragging war with Iraq.
Or maybe he is frustrated that the Cubs have gone nearly a century without a World Series title.
But whatever the cause of his overwhelming sense of hopelessness and angst, the former Uncle Tupelo frontman, along with alt-country rockers Son Volt, has channeled all of it into The Search, a soulful, melancholy companion to 2005's Okemah and the Melody of Riot.
There is enough depression and angst on this album to choke Gerard Way.
Although the subject matter remains the same on Son Volt's new album — the frustrations and hardships of life among the lonesome vastness of President George Bush's America — Farrar and his bandmates have taken new aesthetic and instrumental approaches on The Search.
The defeated tone of "Slow Hearse" in its repetitive refrain of "feels like drivin' round a slow hearse" is enhanced through pastoral guitars and a deliberate, delicate piano line that allows the song to fully realize its intentions, though it occasionally bores.
The introduction of horns on "The Picture" melds a retro, soul sound with bright alt-country, creating an excellent contrast with Farrar's deadpan delivery.
Aggression generally does not fare well for Son Volt.
On the album's weakest track, the grungy "Automatic Society," Farrar does a second-rate Neil Young impression, wailing over-simplistic, less-than-subtle lyrics maligning the Wal-Mart Generation ("cash back/ Heart attack/ You want fries with that").
It is when the band approaches the subject matter with gentleness and authenticity that the songs truly take off.
On "Methamphetamine," the saga of a recovering drug addict longing for his Southern home, Farrar's strong vocals complement the arch lyrics about "still waiting to meet the next ex-wife."
Farrar conjures vivid images of televangelists and Branson stage shows before reaching a moving chorus that if it were played on a scratchy club jukebox, would lead any old, heartbroken barfly to shed tears of empathy into his drink. On "Highways and Cigarettes," Shannon McNally's gentle, almost fragile, backing vocals mesh with Farrar's soulful drawl for a haunting old-school country tune.
The album closes with "Phosphate Skin," a pastoral, folky track with a lush, orchestral feel. This is the new Son Volt at its finest: gentle in its approach but willing to take some musical risks.
The combination of organ and string crescendos over Farrar's assurance that "it will get better from here," instills a sense of hope for the future.