Note: I will make digital purchases free after the pre-order period has ended and the album is available (not sure why it won't allow me to make pre-orders free but whatever).

--

The first sounds to greet the listener on Beauty – the new album by prolific Oakland songwriter Chris Alarie aka Bad Year No Mercy – are those of laughter. One might half-expect this instance (or the title of the album) to be a foreshadowing of something light-hearted, conventional, and cheerful…

Nope.

Instead, what’s evident over the 11 sharply-arranged and lyrically-ambitious tracks is an alternative definition and demonstration of the album title. Alarie doesn’t give any cheap definitions of “beauty” but instead offers a hard-fought, subversive, mentally strugglesome, and down-to-the-bones realization.

In fact, it’s in the latter theme that we most see Alarie’s signature of skeletal/orbital life. Once again, deeper and deeper, we find the imagery of the skull and how it relates to the imagery of the moon. To point out all these moments of allusion would take far, far too long. But listening to Chris’ music over the years, however, I’ve come up with my own interpretations.

Among the new variations on Beauty is Alarie exploring American life – specifically, the notion of death and the moon never far from sight. When he sings “Here comes the new skull / Same as the old skull” on “Song for Nike,” it’s a sly nod to the old “rock n roll-ism” about working-class employers once sung by Roger Daltrey and the Who. The difference, however, is Alarie pointing up to what’s looming over us all – literally the same skull and therefore the same moon.

Would it be that different to live and die on the moon than to live and die on earth?

That’d be an interesting thesis, but I think Alarie explores the theme a bit more specifically.

For instance, on the song “A Song About No Moon,” Alarie sings:
“Tried to write a song about no moon / But I just couldn’t get it right / Now what the hell’m I s’posed to do / to get a long in this life?”

This is the real question: What are we to do with our lives if we can’t create art from the subjects we know are important – like mortality?

But as thought-provoking and sharply-crafted as Alarie’s lyrics are here, it’d be a shame to pass up the highlights of his production, arrangements, and playing. They are, on this album, easily the most colorful, best sounding, and highly skilled ones he’s made.

Whether it’s the opening, bouncing string quartet on “King of Misery,” moments of oscillating Omni-chord splashes and arpeggiations, or his most detailed saxophone wails, it’s clear he’s found his true-stride as a seasoned bedroom producer.

The hi-hats are mega-punchy on tracks like “Song for Nike” and “Conan, Early Letterman” has a floating and almost delicate arrangement of guitar lead lines and sax criss-crosses. There’s also (dare I say it) moments of sheer guitar shreddery. “Organized Sports” erupts in a six-string freakout worthy of Mascis, Malkmus, or Kaplan. The song, as in all these tracks, makes for a rewarding listen for anyone who doesn’t enjoy easy definitions of beauty.

To support my lyrical claims, I’m tempted to point out the last lines of the album (“To Live and Die Beneath the Surface of the Moon”): “It’s a disaster / This American life / Beneath the surface of the moon / To live & die.” Sure, that says a lot but, where does that leave us in terms of a surprising and hard-fought definition of “beauty”?

It’s only on “Conan, Early Letterman” however, do I found the most surprising beautiful images: “Every night I have a vision / Giant skeleton Bart Simpson crown / Atop 11 pointed skull / Fire raining, jewel encrusted / Turning on the ones we’ve trusted / Wake in the early morning lull”

Like all of Alarie’s best work it’s never the most obvious things in which we can find beauty. Why do we now have the skeletal, the orbital, and pop-cultural? One can only guess. So here’s mine: It’s in making art out of the incomprehensible does Bad Year No Mercy find its beauty.

-- Derek Barber