Everyone is the protagonist in the story
of their own lives, a fact that gives the artist in all of us the license to
turn the personal and internal into our own epic saga.
Titus Andronicus'
Patrick Stickles has taken that idea to the extreme on the band's thunderous
new album, The Most Lamentable Tragedy,
an hour-and-a-half behemoth that tells the (loose) story of Stickles' battles with
mental illness. In so doing he proves true the adage about the power of
creativity over obstacles, and creates the best out and out rock album of the
year.
Whenever one
calls something a rock opera, the first thing most people will jump to is The
Who, and that's understandable – the group pretty much created the idea with Tommy and perfected it with Quadrophenia – but Most Lamentable isn't anywhere as linear as the music Pete
Townshend wrote. What it really reminds me of is The Hold Steady, particularly
their masterwork Separation Sunday,
an album that tells a story without hitting you over the head with it. You can
certainly investigate the story on both that album and this one, but it also
works just as a fucking great rock record. If, however, you are interested in
taking a deep dive into the stories and themes on the album, Stickles has
generous annotated the whole thing over at Genius – it's an engrossing read.
Stickles'
influences are all right up front, especially The Clash and the Sex Pistols,
and he brings their same early punk ethos to the record. The album is all
churning guitars and riffs, but closer listens show enormous depth, and some
surprising sounds. Album highlight "Dimed Out" has some beautiful
string work, and a rousing fiddle interlude, courtesy of frequent Arcade Fire
collaborator Owen Pallet and the band does a great E Street Shuffle on
"Mr. E. Mann." It also features a slightly altered cover of The
Pogues' "A Pair of Brown Eyes" and the album closes with a tribute to
Daniel Johnston on the weeper, "Stable Boy."
Not everything on
Most Lamentable connects – there are
a handful of reverb or silent interludes that aren't necessary, and "Sun
Salutation," while definitely a tongue-in-cheek, doesn't serve much of a
purpose. The biggest complaint that many will have is the album's length, which
is more than fair. It can be exhaustive to get through, especially since the
second half is loaded with longer, more expansive numbers and several songs are
just repeated ideas from previous tracks. The mess works though, when you think
of it as a reflection of Stickles' mind, and the complexity and sprawl that a
creative mind like that is capable of building.
What really keeps
the album humming through its slightly excessive run time is Stickles'
commitment to exploring his own struggles in such a myriad of ways. From the
rage and flailing for something to ease the pain on "(S)HE SAID / (S)HE
SAID," to the catharsis of "Fatal Flow," he perfectly captures
the howling frustrations and crutches one most rely on. When the bittersweet
version of "Auld Lang Syne" comes around, it can almost make you weep
with wistfulness and melancholy. I wouldn't go as far as saying "Stable
Boy" brings the album to a happy conclusion, but there's a lovely sense of
hope here, and as anyone knows who deals with mental illness, getting to a
point of hope is no small achievement.
When it comes
down to it, the story Stickles is telling on Most Lamentable – just like life – isn't about the end; it's the
route he takes, the people he meets, the way he feels. It's an expression of
life, of pain, of howling rage and sublime deliverance. He tries to capture so
much in one album, of course it's going to overflow. But as fatal flaws go, there
are much worse.
The Most Lamentable Tragedy is out on Merge.
Also recommended this week:
Albert Hammond
Jr.'s Strokes-y solo album, Momentary
Masters.
Lianne La Havas'
gorgeous blend of jazz and R&B, Blood.
Led Zeppelin's
final three reissues, Presence, In Through
the Outdoor and Coda.
Migos' absurdly
fun major label release, Yung Rich Nation.
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