Beck talks of fields and photographs so comfortably on these tracks, that it beckons repeated meanderings of thought. The sunshine thoughts that bypass cowering reasoning, the thoughts that zip by on the highway. It’s the writing style that has meaning beneath words, well; every adjective and noun is needed. He likes plastic. A lot. And who hasn’t had a day where you had a devil’s haircut in your mind?
And are you afraid to admit that you love this one? The Great Odelay? Yeah, I can understand the urge to resist popular styling in favor of music with a thicker sensibility. The hollowness of Beck’s sound is not so evident on Odelay as with Midnite Vultures.
“In the chain smoke Kansas flash dance @ss pants” That’s from Track 2! Hot Wax! And “Watches tick out of tune . . . “ on Readymade. As Beck declares on Derelict: “I fall asleep in the funeral fire.” Where It’s At?! (We had to go there.) I really didn’t have much to say about this song five years ago. Now, it’s a true classic that makes me yearn for the post-grunge/pre-boy-band-rap-rock era. The nights were full of electronics. (I love the Chemical Brothers) – but the days belonged to Beck. An immediate favorite for most is High-5 with its dandy line : “Rocking the plastic like a man from the Catskills!” And Beck describes himself better than I could: “'Frisco Bay Dixieland, Soda-Pop Man”.
I think the best time to listen to Odelay is now. It really did seem a tad bit too eclectic at the time. But after the fluorescent regurgitation of Midnite Vultures and the black-n-white re-make of folksy garbage (Mutations), I think a trip back to Odelay reveals a song craft that is quite nicely hued. It has all the necessary verbiage, plus it has MELLOW GOLD remissions to boot!
Go listen to it now: Even for only the best line that comes from Novacane:
”Keep on truckin like a novacane hurricane
Blowin static on the poor man's short-wave!”
Why do I go back to Odelay today? Because I want the Beatlesque romp. (Rompy yet quaint, melodic yet perturbed.) A further analysis of Beck’s second album (on DGC) will reveal a Jim Morrison on happy pills. I like to think of Beck as the flapjack flippin’ son that Bob Dylan never had. (Jakob who?) If you want a record full of great tunes, from a manic poet full with the best dance moves of the last 15 years, then grab this record. If you already have it, get it out some time and marvel once more at its endless realm of creativity. I give this album five stars because it stands the hardest test of all: Time.
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