At Dawn by My Morning Jacket (Review)

Sometimes you need be at a certain place or in a certain environment to truly enjoy an album. Some albums, good as they might be, don’t really make sense until you’re in the proper setting. While many great albums transcend time and place, the right time and place certainly don’t hurt. At least that’s what I’ve found to be true of My Morning Jacket’s At Dawn.

I picked this album up over a year ago, after it’d been out for a year. And while I’ve always enjoyed it, it wasn’t until two events occurred that I gave it another spin. One was walking into a local record store while my friend was playing At Dawn over the PA. I didn’t recognize it at first, but it felt awfully familiar. When it finally clicked, I realized that I probably hadn’t been listening to it as much as I should.

The second event occurred during a quick trip to Colorado. My Morning Jacket seemed like the perfect accompaniment for a nighttime drive across Nebraska’s lonely winter prairie. Or any desolate landscape for that matter, be it buried in snow or blasted by sun and sand, where you can be alone with your thoughts.

Although At Dawn contains elements of alt (and old timey) country, arena rock, and ’60s psychedelia, there are moments when it does certainly meet and exceed the promise held within those various genres. Perhaps the Jacket’s closest contemporaries reside in Beachwood Sparks, but At Dawn never quite gives into the Sparks’ dreamy, starry-eyed romanticism. Or at least not to the same extent.

The one weakness of At Dawn is that, at 74 minutes, it’s just too much and too long. The sad irony is that, while your enjoyment of the album might be enhanced by a certain time and season, the album can easily outlast its welcome. Some tracks just go too long, or shouldn’t even be on the album for that matter.

“Honest Man” is a perfect example. At nearly 8 minutes in length, it’s 6 minutes too long, and the aimless guitar soloing and caterwauling by frontman Jim James gets downright painful at times. And I have to admit that I rarely find myself making it past track 10 (mainly because I’m worn out after hearing “Honest Man”).

That being said, there are far too many gems on this album to simply pass it by. One listen to “The Way That He Sings” was all it took to convince me to buy this album, and the track still holds that same appeal after all this time. All comments about caterwauling aside, My Morning Jacket’s greatest strength truly is Jim James’ voice. At his finest moments, he sounds like a cross between Wayne Coyne and Dwight Yoakam after the two have shared a bottle of Jack Daniels and bemoaned a few lost loves. One minute, he can be world-weary and lonesome, the next rich and full, and all the while dripping with heartache.

On “The Way That He Sings,” James’ voice soars over slide guitar, organs, and a solid rhythm section. It doesn’t hurt that the song has one helluva bridge, a transition that still hooks me every time I hear it.

“Death Is the Easy Way” finds the band at its most heartbroken, with James’ singing “ ‘Cause nothin’ gets you high/You’re poor the day you die/And alcohol, it only gets you tired” against a lonesome harmonica like he has firsthand knowledge of the subject. “Hopefully” continues the mood, while adding a bit more atmosphere to the mix. You can imagine the band recording this on a back porch somewhere in Kentucky during a humid summer evening, a tired coonhound stretched out beside the chair and a jug of moonshine close at hand. James’ delivers again, plaintively singing “Hopefully, it occurs to me that there’s one thing I can’t stand/It’s the thought of one single day without your head in my hand” as if his voice alone can protect his lover.

Even the dragged out “Honest Man” can’t diminish the brilliance of “X-mas Curtain.” Here, the band is at their most Flaming Lips-esque, delivering a solid piece of country-tinged psychedelia that feels like The Soft Bulletin’s long lost Appalachian cousin (replete with steel drums during the bridge). James’ voice sighs away, making surreal lyrics like “Get some action from the Christmas girl that lives inside your womb” and “You’re the criminal that never breaks the law” things of beauty. And lest you think that the band’s attempts to rock are all bloated jams, there’s the potent, harmonica-fuelled “Just Because I Do”

While you don’t need to be heading west on I-80 to truly enjoy At Dawn, it certainly adds to the effect when you’re heading into the sun. However, don’t be afraid to hit the “Next” button at times to get to the album’s finest moments. My guess is you’ll be hitting “Back” several times to hear them again and again.