Review Summary: Black Lips deliver a. a flawed, but fun, country tribute / b. an oddly-refined joke / c. a hint at their questionable new direction.
The year’s 1999. Deep in the suburbs of Georgia, the first incarnation of the Black Lips arose from the ashes of two dead bands. They play a brand of loud, lo-fi garage punk. Original? No, not really. But they’re eager to prove they have the energy to pull it off. Their live shows spark as much fervor as they did outrage, garnering them a decent following. But over the years, they mellow out (as punks tend to do). They find success in the mid-2000s with their album Good Bad Not Evil, a mix of garage and psychedelic surf that seems to strike a chord, critically and commercially. They ride the momentum out as well as they can, releasing albums well into the early 2010s.
The year’s 2020. Black Lips is a very different band than it once was. That momentum from last decade has screeched to a sudden halt. They’re back in the shadows after what felt like a lifetime in the spotlight. Or, whatever the indie equivalent of the spotlight is (a flashlight?). Interest in the band has waned and people are seemingly tired of that psych/garage sound. But when that sound has been your bread and butter for half your career, it’s not as easy as flipping a switch. But Black Lips have done it before. They transitioned from lowdown Georgia punks to fashionable psych-infused garage rockers once. Maybe a new sound is just the thing to lift them out of their slump. So, devise a new sound they did. And I’ll give them this at least:
This new sound is
unique.
At least for them.
Saying Sing in a World That's Falling Apart is a ‘country’ album isn’t being entirely truthful. It sounds like country instrumentally; the guitar on the album is pretty much as close to country rock as you could get. However, those instrumentals are cut into by the rough, scratchy, generally-off vocals and the occasional bleating of saxophone. The lyrics are… ‘country-adjacent.’ There’s mentions of driving down Route 66, swamps, cowboys, Texas; pretty textbook inclusions. But then, you have such lyrical gems as:
“Bobby Earl awoke at dawn, he put his hunting britches on”
“He could smell trouble like a dog, he was on their tail”
“He was after tax stamp dodgers, moonshiners and illegal loggers”
“Pot smoking hippies and draft dodgers to boot”
And you have no idea where we’re going.
It’s fun not knowing where you’re going sometimes. I’ve spent my fair share of time chasing the sun, sure. But while this album is an entertaining listen, it doesn’t exactly make clear what Black Lips next move is. I can only imagine a horde of Black Lips fans, old and new, gathered together scratching their heads in sync, thinking the same thing: ‘what is this supposed to be?’ And having listened to it several times now, I don’t think I know myself.
Perhaps they aren’t as quick to adapt as they were back in the 2000s and this is merely a stopgap of sorts. What this album will be viewed as years down the line ultimately depends on what immediately follows it. Is it a completely genuine tribute to classic country, given a bit of classic Black Lips flair for good measure? Or a complete farce; a jab at the strange love affair pop music had with country back in 2019? Or, god forbid, is it really the sound Alexander, Swilley, and co. want to dabble in for the next 10-15 years? Or maybe something entirely different. Retrospect can be cruel or kind to albums like Sing in a World That's Falling Apart, so forgive me for hedging my bets now.
But for all of you reading in the present: With Sing in a World That's Falling Apart, Black Lips deliver an album of country rock pastiche, littered with good ol’ raunchy fun. An enjoyable one-off, if nothing else.
