The first thing I thought when I picked up Morel’s debut CD, Queen of the Highway, is how reminiscent the cover and jacket art is of U2’s Zooropa and Achtung Baby discs. The collage of random images spattered on the cover is color-tinted and random and Morel appears on the inside flap in huge, round sunglasses, leather jacket, vintage Rolling Stones T-shirt and short hair — all similar to Bono’s late-’90s look. But where U2’s foray into the land of techno and electronica — 1997’s “Pop” — was fresh and inventive, Morel’s homoerotic romp into the same territory is much more bland.
The Boston native made his mark on the dance scene around five year’s ago with his remixing talent. While working as a prominent DJ in Washington D.C., Morel has also been remixing tracks for such heavy-hitters as Tina Turner , Depeche Mode and New Order. Yet, at the turn of the millennium, he decided that he wanted to create by enlisting the help of a backing band on Queen of the Highway.
Morel’s mixing and musical talent is not in question here — the seamless, tight electronica moves and thumps with passion and obvious experience. But perhaps the music is too seamless. The songs come off as repetitive, run-of-the-mill club standards, as there is nothing to distinguish between the tracks. I had to force myself through the third and fourth ear-numbing listens.
Purportedly spawned from his artistic background — Morel’s grandfather was a classical pianist; his sister was a classic rock-enthusiast; and his mother was a lover of F. Scott Fitzgerald and Earnest Hemingway — Queen of the Highway touches on a spectrum of topics, all peppered with an undercurrent of sexuality. “True” is seemingly about a diseased gay man who dies alone, while “A World Set Free” details the emotional anxiety of having a homosexual alter ego.
The lyrics leave much to be desired. On “Mean Time,” Morel recounts his troubled adolescence with a shallow, teen-pop flavor: “Fatty knows its true / He’s tangled up in you / But you don’t know his name … The jock says he’s un-cool.” The subjects on the album warrant seriousness, yet Morel’s bubblegum approach seems hypocritical.
On a brighter note, the title track proves a diamond in the monotonous rough. Its rocky, surreal guitar and breathy piano are almost catchy. Morel’s pleasing baritone is especially powerful on this track.
Without lyrical poignancy and variety, Morel simply fails to make the transition from behind the mixing table to the spotlight. A bespectacled pop-wannabe he is; a certain leather-cloaked, passionate lead singer, he is not.
— Courtney Hollands
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