Beck Week, Day 1

For, really, no other reason than the fact that I like him (alot), I've deemed this:  Beck Week.  And, just because I can, I'm going to talk about a Beck album everyday this week.  The albums I've picked are not picked because they are my favorites nor are they to be presented in any particular order.  I've just picked 5 Beck albums that I feel like talking about. 

And so, on day 1, let's talk about Midnite Vultures.


After the world-changing event that was Odelay (well, it changed my world), and its follow-up, the slightly subdued Mutations (by the way, I'll be writing about both of these albums this week), the big question was:  What next?  The answer was a little surprising, in that it wasn't a continuation of the mellower/folkier Beck, nor was it more of the cut-and-paste genre-defying Beck.  Instead, Beck gave us an insane sex album.

Yep, this is the "sex album."  Or, maybe, the sexed-up jams album.  Or, better yet, one of the most under-appreciated albums ever.  Seriously, this album doesn't get nearly the amount of love that it deserves.

I'd like to say that there was some sort of learning curve involved with listening to this album for the first time.  After all, there was nothing in Beck's previous records that really hinted at this shift in direction, not to mention that at 17 years old in the pre-internet-saturated world, it wouldn't have been unrealistic to assume that a lot of the details in a "sexed up" album might go over my head. 

Needless to say, that wasn't the case.  This was still Beck, after all, and this was very much a Beck album.  To me, this was the defining moment when Beck transcended the label of "alternative" or "junk-yard funk," as he had once labeled himself in an interview.  Previously, whether it was Odelay, Mutations or One Foot in the Grave, you could at least see the parameters in which Beck worked.  With Midnite Vultures, though, Beck was now more than that.  He was the guy who could do absolutely anything.  All genres were at his (ahem) beck and call.  If Beck's next album had been a death metal album, I wouldn't have blinked an eye. 

MV is more than some sort of sex album though.  It is essentially (and more importantly), an album of incredible pop songs.  With the exception of Modern Guilt, many years later, these are the most obvious pop songs Beck has ever written.

"Sexx Laws" was an incredibly obvious choice for a first single.  This song comes closest to defining what this album is about in a single song:  sexy noises and Beck's weird-ass lyrics.  Even the music video, a bizarro take on daytime talk shows, seemed to spell out the mission statement of Midnite Vultures:  "It's like stuff you recognize, but weirder and probably involving robots."

There's a trilogy of songs, of sorts, on the album.  "Nictotine and Gravy," "Peaches and Cream" and "Milk and Honey" which are all absolutely vital to the album.  Each has their own sound and almost separate the album into thirds.  "Nicotine and Gravy" is a funky horn-laden song, while "Peaches and Cream" could pass as an actual sexy R&B song you might hear on the radio one night if it weren't for very Beck-ish lines like "You look good in that sweater/and that aluminum crutch" (though, it also has one of my favorite Beck lines ever:  "Your homegirl's on the line/but your daddy's off the hook").  "Milk and Honey," meanwhile, eschews for a weirder rock sound, complete with robotic rifts (perhaps a sex jam from the future?).

There are just so many highlights on this album.  The cut-up drum fill on "Pressure Zone" still fills me with glee when I hear it now, 12 years after I first heard it.  Album closer "Debra" remains one of the best Beck songs ever, a hilarious send-up of overblown R&B anthems.  Every single line of this song is absolute genius, including such musings as "I coldstep to you/with a fresh pack of gum" and, of course, the fantastic chorus:  "I want to get with you/and your sister/I think her name's Debra."

Also notable of Midnite Vultures is that it seems to close the door on one part of Beck's career.  Every album that came after this seemed to have Beck on a slightly different (albeit, just as great) trajectory; one that was a little more mature.  MV, in hindsight, caps off the first half of Beck's career, one of wild experimentation and a creative energy that knows no bounds. 

In the scheme of things, I would call this my third favorite Beck album, but that is a little misleading, as I would put my three favorite Beck albums (the other two will be covered this week and have been mentioned elsewhere in this post) above almost every single other album I've heard.