A.C. Newman – Get Guilty

A.C. Newman’s solo albums will inevitably be saddled with a measuring stick to the pageantry of his main band, New Pornographers. So it’s not unexpected to experience vexation on the initial run-through of Get Guilty. Largely stripped-down and eschewing NP hyperactivity, the temptation is to dismiss his latest batch of songs as sounding like demos. But calling this album unfinished would be a mistake as repeated spins reveals. There is exemplary craft behind Newman’s songwriting. Subtle nuances rise to the surface, transforming otherwise slack power-pop into something more. Strategically placed pianos, quick-lick electric guitars, dissonant ebows, and dropping the occasional horn into the mix are hallmarks of Newman irregardless of the band. It also leaves little doubt of who is in charge of the star power gathered under the NP banner. The question isn’t necessarily why Get Guilty isn’t as thrilling as NP albums, but rather is Newman better off without his famous friends?Hopefully it will never be anything more than an academic query, because the world is a better place with both facets of Newman’s musical ventures. Many of the tracks here could easily have found their way onto an NP album. 'The Submarines of Stockholm', for example, has all the basics from Newman’s trademarked bag of tricks. Circular melodies, catchy hooks, a jaunty beat and infectious la-la-la’s are fond reminders of mainstream pop gems of the 70's. At the forefront of most of the songs are terrific harmonies and singalong choruses.  Backing vocalists Kori Gardner of Mates of State and Nicole Atkins are every bit as accomplished as NP ladies Neko Case and Kathryn Calder. Under Newman’s direction, the harmonies are whimsical, exhilarating and a little bit disorientating. If Newman ever decides to get into producing bands full-time, no doubt there would be a long list of applicants eager for his coaching abilities.Tweaking established verse-chorus-verse song structures is something Newman has done very well since his days with Zumpano back in the 90s. ‘The Heartbreak Rides’ layers incongruous melodies of stunted bells and wheezing keyboards under the rhythmic cadence of Newman’s vocals. It’s an arrangement technique that looks simple on paper, but given the number of indie-pop mainstays filling the airwaves with watered-down versions of Chutes Too Narrow, writing the perfect pop song is the baseball equivalent of hitting a major league fastball over the fence. It isn’t easy. The risk is gumming up the works with songs overloaded by heavy-handed production or letting the songs spiral out of control in a misguided search for artistic integrity. If anything Get Guilty works too hard maintaining its balance.It’s on songs like ‘Young Atlantis’ where Newman completely turns his back on the glossy glitz of NP. The tempo is slower and the song builds to mellow crescendos with the aid of mournful strings and steady percussion. The relaxed arrangements give the song more breathing room. Lyrically, it’s an arcane storyline that never quite takes shape. What Newman does remarkably well with his words is transmit moods. The refrain, “I loved you, blue,” is desperate but hopeful, and effectively relieves the burden of figuring out how various non sequiturs figures into the tale of a dying city. The second line from opener ‘There Are Maybe Ten or Twelve’ asserts the first line is really the tenth or twelfth and then dares the listener to “make of that what you will.” In lesser hands this sort of chicanery would be frustrating, but Newman’s linguistic jokes aren’t offensive. There is something eminently likeable about the guy.‘Like A Hitman, Like A Dancer’ strikes a balance between the acoustic sound Newman embraced on his debut solo effort, 2004’s The Slow Wonder, and the way in which we’ve become accustomed with NP. All in all, there isn’t a poor effort on the album. If there’s a weakness, it’s that there aren’t the one or two standout tracks that might make you recommend Get Guilty to someone who isn’t already a fan.The missing ingredient may well be beyond Newman’s immediate control. What makes NP’s albums wonderfully surprising from track to track is Daniel Bejar’s input. Bejar’s songs are notoriously hit-and-miss, but it’s arguably his contributions that catapult them to the top of the sugar-pop market. At the very least, Newman and Bejar’s diametrically opposed vocal characteristics compliment each other. Without Bejar or Case as the occasional lead vocalist, Get Guilty doesn’t have the same sense of variety. Guaranteed it’s more problematic for Bejar’s acrid voice on Destroyer albums, but Newman’s thin vocal range spends too much time under the spotlight, and Get Guilty sags because of it.The complaint is a relatively minor one. Carl Newman has been crafting brilliant songs for going on 20 years and it has put him at a disadvantage by removing the element of surprise. It’s an unfair criticism. Perhaps punctuating the latter half of the album with the refrain “Get guilty” is his way of addressing warmer receptions received by younger, inferior artists. Whatever Newman intended, he felt strongly enough about it to include the phrase in bold red lettering on the cover art. Make of that what you will. 70%A.C. 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