Broken Bells: Into the Blue Review

Into the Blue is yet another hazy thunky strummy meandering studio-lover's album from the duo that do it best. The one very big issue with that statement is that, well, they've never actually capitalized on their respective successes. 

I have a lot of love for their first album and still suggest it quite heavily. But there's no getting around the fact that it was a tad boring and a bit stiff. The sophomore effort is kind of inexcusable considering the pair's careers. I hope the pair understand the critic's frustration; I also hope they hear the collective sigh of relief after listening to this album. Finally Broken Bells is paying off.

Sometimes it's easy to forget just how many great albums Mercer has written from a lyrical perspective. He just has such a fun way of singing along a pleasing melody. The depth shown in his albums reward you for sticking around long enough to sing along. Recently, though, I haven't seen that side of James, and I have missed it. I still miss it to a degree, but I don't mind this new avenue. Like much of this album, the emphasis isn't so much about a big tapestry to get the point across as it is a well placed knife stab. Love on the Run lets what little lyrics are presented carry you into the environment. Saturdays is cryptic and knowing. Invisible Exit is much more traditional for Mercer, and feels the most like his old Shins personality. 

Mercer has a much better grasp on what it means to be a Danger Mouse style moody songwriter. There's some potential for this direction to be as campy and juicy as a Gorillaz album. That's better than the sometimes unintentionally sappy moments presented. As much as I love the pastiche on Love on the Run there's no getting around the clever yet juvenile story; this isn't subversion of the BeeGees, it's just BeeGees. Forgotten Boy is just too heavy-handed for its own good, marking the low point for the album. 

Even with these gripes, they're just slight scale tippers in the grand scheme. There's plenty of great, well-adjusted human reactions to love and loss. On more than one occasion you'll feel a line hit you in your sad bone, and it'll hurt so good. It's never that deep, certainly not like their debut album, but what it trades in depth it gains in emotion. It's a better balance, even if I would have rather seen strictly only improvements, no trades. 

A lot of intention is here, treating vocals as production choices. Vocals aren't layered on top of the song as much as they are an instrument to add color. Taking Love on the Run as an example, it's not hard to see the influences on display from music history. When the vocals switch from solo to choir, the music as a whole takes on an entirely new texture. One Night pleasingly stabs the title into your ears through a piercing harmony that is as fun to hear as any great synth setting. There's nothing here quite as front-and-center in this department as Giving Up the Ghost placing Mercer in a brassy falsetto range. Still, it's clear work was invested on how the vocals should match up with the music.

This is a recording junkie's type of album, along the lines of a Vulfpeck album. Joy in the process is found in crevices all over the place, even though the music itself is rarely joyful itself. The drumline, horns, and guitar solo interplay on Love on the Run in particular will be a standout moment for a lot of listeners (if I haven't already given that track enough attention here let me know). I'm particularly fond of the slow burn opening Into the Blue with spacious chimes given the opportunity to be spacious before digging into a jam that never succombs to overexcitement. The Chase hearkens back to the one-off moody and sadly forgettable DM/Danielle Lupi album Rome, pulling on those lovely 60s sexy spy movie soundtracks through marimbas and violins. 

This is where Danger Mouse really pulls through this time around too. Rome, Turn Blue, Little Broken Hearts... it felt like Burton had been trying desparately for so long to make this exact album, but nobody was right for it. I think he accepted this in some ways, too, because that signature Mouse sound doesn't slap you across the face here. Burton has had slower burns (what do you expect when working with Norah Jones though), but fewer instruments, precision mixing, and clean textures keep it from dragging or blistering out. Best of all, this larger emphasis on making digital sounds mimic analog operation gives it that extra luster of timelessness. It's not really a back-to-basics approach though; there's a difference between being basic and being refined.

If there's anything that's going to make you bounce off the album, it's going to be this slow burn aesthetic. There's a couple uptempo songs in the middle that liven the experience up for a moment, but this is not meant to be that type of journey. Mercer seems to be channeling his most aloof self to work within the confines of this pace. When things pick up, he smartly keeps emotions in check to allow the coldness of the lyrics to bite in a little further. Personally I wish the album had a little more of that uptempo spice, as Saturdays is a true highlight for the album. Being in this dour mood doesn't mean you can't juxtapose to snap you out of passive listening. 

This would be a much bigger issue if the slower songs were poorly constructed or plain uninteresting. If you're listening to this album, though, you know what you're getting into at least a little. Why it took so long I just don't know; this is quintessential Mercer and Burton at their most effortless.

8.8/10 Vinylworthy