Black Out, the second album from The Good Life, seems to be about confused nights of helpless romance in bars and on cold streets, and although the band’s press release stresses the conceptual elements of the album, the lyrics are its one major failing. Explained as an outlet for Tim Kasher’s softer, sadder songs, the music of the Omaha-based band is an interesting combination of guitars, drums and keyboards, with much electronic drum sequencing all being led by Kasher’s voice, which sounds curiously like Robert Smith’s.
The Good Life began as the solo project of Tim Kasher, the singer and guitarist for Cursive, but the group now has five members who recorded this album, set for release in March on Saddle Creek Records.
The feel of the record is that of a late ’80s Cure album–the songs are mostly vague recollections of romances and break-ups, and they flow into one another through short interludes. But the lyrics are unfortunately so indistinctive that they undoubtedly mar the effect of some songs. They are not quite as poetic as they try to be, and the good parts are punctuated by meaningless binges of self-loathing that have become too overused to have any meaning. “F**k” is often placed in such a way as to come off as unnatural, as if it were the most important word in the song. On “I Am an Island,” while asking a lover to stay at least until the morning, when he will be sober, Kasher sings “I’m a cold, jaded / Selfish, abusive, dysfunctional f**k-up.” It’s almost too much; the purpose and meaning that seem to be hiding in the music often get destroyed by lyrical ramblings such as this, making the emotional states portrayed in the songs seem stiff and self-conscious.
There are several tracks, however, where the band creates interesting textures that save the tune from simply being a well-executed pop song. The combination of acoustic drums and electronic loops in particular is very effective. “O’Rourke’s, 1:20 a.m.” uses slowly changing instrumentation to highlight the dynamics and structure of the song; the different patterns and sounds bleed into one another until the last lines are sung over a solo guitar. Dispite being weighed down by some drab lyrics and a sense that it is contrived, Black Out is still an interesting listen.
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