Beck - 'Guero' (Geffen / Interscope)
4/5
By: Toby L
'Odelay: Mk II', you were sold, yes? Oh, Hansen. The move to rekindle that partnership with The Dust Brothers. The chance to inflict some hefty beats and obscure hip-hop sampling just too gross to deny. A defiant opportunity to slaughter stone-dead public perception that our blonde one had turned into a bit of a softie following publicly panned, not all that bad, really acousto-effort, 'Seachange'.
'Guero', then. That long-awaited 'return to form' (how condescending). Or is it? Judging a record on its merits as both a coherent body of work and compiling of great individual moments/songs, then Beck has returned as compellingly as ever.
Yet where 'Guero' may lack shock-value of prior Beck greats (two quick examples: 'Odelay', which won its genius through sheer irreverence and fearless genre bastardisation - all of folk, roots, country, rap and ardent rocking were chucked in the blender and left to decay before Hansen unleashed his throaty rasp on top and put it to bed; and 'Midnite Vultures' - grotesquely plastic-sheen production, acutely inane lyricism, awkward sexual perversion, gaudy artwork...), due to its almost-trademark treatment of what can only be referred to as 'Beck-isms', it prospers in way of composition. Indeed, some of these songs sound only as rounded as could be by a Beck of thirty-four years old. Where on 'Odelay', Beck never sang, and on 'Seachange', Beck never got down with it... here, he manages both.
And it forms a thrilling hotchpotch to attempt to audibly behold. 'Missing' is our instant favourite - a yearning, depressed and vital piece of inquisition and doubt that we seldom see our scientologist friend embark upon quite so affectingly; 'Black Tambourine' and lead-tune 'E-Pro' are the most pants-quiveringly ecstatic and empty-headed, riff-led party-anthems; 'Girl' is the most twee and constructed pop offering Beck has dealt out to date, harmony-ridden and fancy free; whilst the title-track is a clunking, Spanish-sung funk-a-thon that's even sexier than an unadulterated five minutes with Angelina Jolie's lips.
There's even some worthy electro dabbling and haunting sampling disruption - 'Hell, Yes' - more definable to the 'Vultures' era, whilst 'Scarecrow', in its irresistible bassline and slinky pace is a baffling, yee-hah! update of 'Billie Jean', 'Rental Car' bears some serious Queens of the Stone Age hardness, and 'Broken Drum' is an epic and bleakly brittle Blur-like ballad, with gentle piano keys and a beguiling melody that cuts, and bleeds.
Viciously diverse, almost cruelly chameleon, Beck has returned, and though the tricks may not be quite as impacting nor as flourishing as once found, they're at least that much more well practiced. It makes all the difference. You'd still choose no-one else.
Artists in this article: Beck
Your Feedback
Login to post your comment