Ray LaMontagne, Supernova

(RCA Records, 2014)

Review by Five-Inch Taint

            Well, it’s been a while since I last contributed a music review for this website. At first, I contributed this silence to a general laziness and moral malaise. While that may still be the case, I just could not get over the feeling that it was something else. You see, during that time period, I have had this bad feeling in my gut. No, not the intuition type of bad feeling. Rather, more like a physical pain and sickness that I didn’t quite understand. I tried everything I could think of to get over this feeling and move on the path to well-being: juice-detoxing, exercise, eating more vegetables. Nothing was working! My despair grew as I felt I would never overcome this stomach pain. However, at my gloomiest moment, I came across a ray of light in the form of new and exciting scientific research dealing the relationship between the microflora in our gastrointestinal tract and various stomach and other health ailments. While not necessarily new, scientists have begun to focus on the relationship between the bacteria in our guts and numerous health outcomes. The health benefits of foods depend on the ability of bacteria to break it down to release all the nutritional goodness contained within the food. You see, my poor health might not have been due to a bad diet (consisting mainly of faux chicken and cheezey sausage wraps). Maybe I just have bad bacteria.

            With this discovery there comes both good and bad news. The good news is that scientists are beginning to understand this better and have developed a breakthrough for dealing with bad bacteria. Many scientists are now convinced that we need to flush out the bad bacteria and insert better bacteria into our colons. In other words, you need a fecal matter transplant. Typically what happens is you have a fecal donor who shits in a toilet hat, collecting a sample to bring to the hospital. Doctors at the hospital hand it off to a lab technician who has the unenviable job of making the fecal matter available for transplant from one person to another. In a laboratory, which must have been Freud’s wet dream, the shit is put in a blender as all the noxious gases are sucked out, creating a liquid not unlike the weak coffee with creamer you may be sipping now. The fecal matter is put in little vials, handed off to the doctor, and then, in an operating room, inserted up your butt and dropped off at strategic locations along your Hershey highway. That’s the good news. Now, onto the bad news. This procedure isn’t available everywhere. And, as is typical with any other scientific advancement, the great state of Utah has yet to sanction fecal matter transplant as a viable procedure. Thus, I am forced to administer the transplant myself. After spending many months perusing craigslist for potential…ahem…donors…ahem…I was at a loss and was giving up my search for a shit-donor. My salvation, however, came in a surprise shit-package in the form of Ray LaMontagne’s new album, Supernova.

            After listening to it for the first time, I knew that I had found a potent and seemingly endless supply of shit. I mean, from the very first track I became excited by the sheer amount of shit that was coming from my speakers. I almost couldn’t get the Tupperware out fast enough to collect the excrement. LaMontagne’s typical singer/songwriter approach seems to have been replaced by what I can only imagine is his interpretation of ‘60s style psych-pop. The first track, “Lavendar,” was just a gentle introduction to the coming shitnami. It does not take long for the shit seeds to get planted. LaMontagne’s usual emotional depth, accentuated by his voice, is seemingly eliminated in the overlaid vocals. Instead of descending into the deepness of his usually soulful lyrics, the vocals seem ethereal and slightly insincere, lacking conviction. Although, this track represents somewhat of a departure from LaMontagne’s typical slow burn to more of a driving psychedelic rock—this theme runs throughout the album. That, perhaps, is the biggest failure in the album.

            While I applaud LaMontagne for attempting to evolve his musical style, this album seems to lack the originality that it seeks out. The album Supernova is what I like to call a shit flower. It looks like a regular flower, but when you get down and poke your nose in it you realize it’s a shit flower…a whole bouquet of it. There are, though, a couple of real flowers that stick out in this shit bouquet. “Ojai” has that great folk-rock sound that really allows LaMontagne’s voice to shine and carry out the complexity of the lyrics. On this track, his tone and cadence work well with the relatively (compared to the rest of the album) stripped down song. With that said, however, the song draws on for quite awhile losing any favor that the song gained. The final song on the album “Drive-in Movies” follows this similar frustrating pattern. LaMontagne’s lyrics and voice are strong but drowned out by overdoing it. There are so many layers to the song (such as the overlaid vocals [I’ve never been a fan of ooh’s and aah’s]) that there is little room for his voice and lyrics to really shine.

Like a nugget of gold gilded in turd Supernova is hard to swallow. Although I was generally disappointed with the album, it does provide the perfect fodder for my desperately needed fecal matter transplant. As of now, it’s time for me to gather my shit basket and start harvesting from this shit abyss.