Ouch, it pains me to say this: Frank Black just isn’t the same. Most of this album does nothing but recycle the same ideas he’s been pursuing since the Pixies broke up. Parts of this vary in terms of originality and execution but generally speaking it shows the gradual decline he’s been following for the past decade and a half.
It is bits of a relief to have his wife (Violet Clark) add something to the proceedings. Her voice at least provides some interesting variation on this theme. With the lyrics the way they are, it is a hopeless task to bother focusing on them. Each time they try to sound cool or hip it’s like your Dad convincing you he can still rock out as he plays “Margaritaville”. All of it feels so hopelessly out of it, it is almost made for background bar music, the guitars, etc.
Even the songs sound like variations on old themes: “Lovesick” sounds suspiciously like “Bohemian Like You” from the Dandy Warhols. Later in the album the synthesizer becomes more prevalent and failing to fit into the rock songs.
What reminds you of how good he used to be is the song “Fort Wayne”. Here he hits his mark, it sounds really sweet. Sadly, this is the only hint that perhaps there’s still some creativity left for him. Taken as a whole though, the album is a disappointment even excluding Frank Black’s illustrious career, judging him against his rock contemporaries.
