Mr. M [CD]

Lambchop have made a number of outstanding albums as they've evolved from "Nashville's most f--ked-up country band" to a singular chamber pop ensemble during a career that lasted nearly two decades, but one of their finest works is not really a Lambchop album at all.
Vic Chesnutt recruited Lambchop to serve as his backing band on the 1998 album "The Salesman and Bernadette", and the results were a marvelous fusion of the group's broad but emotionally intimate approach and Chesnutt's witty, skewed, and perceptive gifts as a songwriter.
Chesnutt and Lambchop's Kurt Wagner seemed like kindred spirits, fellow Southerners who married oblique yet telling poetry to melodies that were strong yet fluidly graceful, and it should surprise no one that Wagner was hit hard by Chesnutt's death in late 2009.
Lambchop's first studio project since Chesnutt's passing, 2012's "Mr. M", is dedicated to Wagner's friend and collaborator, and though the songs don't deal explicitly with Chesnutt, there's a sense of sorrow in these songs that's deeper than what we've come to expect from Lambchop, infused with an air of reflection and regret that's impossible to miss.
As usual, Wagner's lyrics are blankly poetic and don't much concern themselves with linear storytelling, but his gently abstract sketches of people coming to terms with loss and unkind fate make themselves felt even when they're not literally understood, and the lines "Friends make you sensitive/Loss makes us idiots/Fear makes us critical/Knowledge is difficult" from the song "Mr. Met" sums up the tone and the themes of this album remarkably well.
But if "Mr. M" is music informed by tragedy, the sense of gravity makes this some of the most beautiful and powerful music Lambchop have created to date.
Wagner's gorgeous, artful melodies give the musicians plenty of opportunity to demonstrate their remarkable command of dynamics and interpersonal interaction, and most of the songs have been gussied up with fine, tasteful string arrangements that weave their way in and out of the band's performances rather than simply being draped over the top.
"Mr. M" is an album that concerns itself with loss, but the beauty and gentle force of these songs speak to the joys and responsibilities of being alive, and the album is more than simply a fitting tribute to a fallen comrade, it's one of the most affecting works to date from a brilliant, one-of-a-kind band. M.Deming

Although I am giving the same number of stars (as a rounding up of 3.5) as the previous (excellent) review, I am afraid I am not quite as generous in my praise. The standard history of Lambchop is that, after years of anonymity, they hit critical and (relatively speaking) commercial gold with 2000's "Nixon" whence they have returned to below the radar. This is, inevitably, an oversimplification on many levels. It ignores the brilliance of albums such as debut "I Hope You're Sitting Down" and "What Another Man Spills" and 2002's "Is A Woman" and the fact that, happily, "Mr M" has received rather more press attention than any Lamchop release for the best part of a decade.

"Mr M" is a worthy tribute to the late, great Vic Chestnutt whose spirit infuses the tone of the album, but pales slightly in comparison with the afore-mentioned predecessors. Although a number of tracks are from the top-drawer, overall there is not enough variety of sound and consistency of song-writing to confer greatness upon "Mr M".

Wagner's real skills are in his powers of observation and the textures he deploys. Here his lyrics, while heartfelt, are full of cliches while the sound is materially the same as 2006's "Damaged" and 2008's "OH (Ohio"). Although the string ensembles provide a pathos, I miss the richness and variety of instrumentation of yore whose absence highlights the slightness of, say, "2B2" and there is nothing as raucous as "Hellmouth", as soulfully upbeat as "Give Me Your Love" or the change of song within a song as in the case of "Is A Woman".

Significantly two of the standout tracks "Gone Tomorrow" and "The Good Life (Is Wasted)" are (relatively) upbeat with the strongest melodic feel of the album. To even greater effect, "Kind Of" is a torch song par excellence. The lyrics speak directly to the senses and the song grows to an emotional climax, the tension created by the standout performance from the Tosca String Quartet. All these three songs would grace a "best of" Lambchop but to paraphrase a paraphrase, Lambchop's offal is better than most bands banquet.

So good it's silly.
Not much of a review, I know. But anyway, listen to Gone Tomorrow, and you will catch my drift, as they say. Or you won't get a thing. And then this is not for you.