Review Summary: Anti-folk boozer needs a hug.
Ever since he began making music all those years ago, Adam Green has been making a lot of it.
Minor Love, his latest offering, is Green’s sixth solo album in eight years. Each of these releases appears to have resulted from a continuous flow of topsy-turvy and decidedly unique observations from his immediate world. Minor Love follows this trend, albeit under somewhat different circumstances than his previous albums.
Adam, this time around, is newly divorced from his wife of only two years. Not only has this obviously affected his state of mind, but has only fuelled his creative side further. The album, created almost entirely on Green’s lonesome, is a collection of melancholy, uncertain songs that are scattered and inconsistent. At the same time, there’s just something so lovable about Green as both a performer and a character – so much so that the album has enough going for it to become passable, in spite of its flaws.
What is most interesting about
Minor Love – particularly for long-serving Green fans - is the arguable notion that this could well be his first-ever straightforward, humourless album. He sounds constantly tired and miserable, even when the songs themselves are musically upbeat (“Goblin”, “Oh Shucks”) or the lyrics give way to some of his classic wry humour (“Castles and tassels/and flatulent assholes/I love you”). It is not particularly conveyed through the voice itself – his liquored croon, established since 2002’s
Garfield, is as distinctive as ever. Rather, it becomes mostly to do with the tone in which he delivers his moping poetry throughout the album’s tracks, which exudes feelings of distance, confusion, frustration and passive aggression. Atop of that, it’s a rarity that the musical movements here work beyond subdued, Cohen-esque sways, which results in an album that’s a fairly bleak affair more often than not.
With this in mind, it’s easy to become disinterested with
Minor Love. Sure, it’s only around half an hour in length, but Green’s sulking and low key numbers with similar themes can test one’s patience. In particular, you will more than likely switch off from the album during the stretch of tracks from the indulgent “Bathing Birds” to the echoing filler number “Cigarettes Burn Forever”. Perhaps if they were scattered amongst Green’s previous albums, they may be more enjoyable; but bundled together it just gets depressing.
There’s still quality work to be found, of course. The swinging “Give Them A Token” is an early highlight, with slinking acoustic guitar and warm organ adding to the quaint, catchy vocals. Its successor, the snarky “Buddy Bradley”, is also worth your listening time for the viciously sharp lyrics alone: “Cancel the Sunday salon/And bury the gravedigger’s son/No money could last for too long/Nobody could pay for this song”. Ouch. The arrangements – a mile away from the big-band tracks of 2008’s Sixes and Sevens – are also a nice touch, in all their simplistic nature.
Minor Love definitely aims for a less-is-more feel, which is accomplished soundly enough.
The degree of enjoyment you will get from
Minor Love depends entirely on how good your history is with Green’s previous outings. If you can accept the album for the acquired taste that it is, then there’ll be a far greater chance of enjoying what’s on offer. Conversely, if you’re easily irritated by the guy, best to leave this one alone. Unless, of course, you’d like to hear him suffer.
Minor Love majors in that stuff.
