Published on May 20, 1997
Associating Morphine to cigars, whiskey and scotch is about as
natural as associating LSD with Timothy Leary. However, you have to
admit a certain truthness to the rule. So, when I settled back to
review their latest,
Like Swimming, I came prepared, as should a person who has
never listened to Morphine before. So, kick back, have a martini,
have a scotch and a choice cigar. Now prepare for a 40 minute
groove fest.
Morphine may be limited, but they’re damn good at what they do.
After the sparse, and yes, smokey, intro, the band kicks into
“Potion”. The chemistry the band has with each other may one of the
best today. Two-string slide bassist and vocalist, Mark Sandman,
baritone saxist Dana Colley and drummer Billy Conway groove off and
play off of each other’s beats like the tightest of trios. The
simple sax melody of “Potion” and the syncopated bass and drums are
irresistable.
Like Swimming doesn’t agitate that much from their last
three great albums,
Good,
Cure for Pain and
Yes. Keyboards and even a sparse guitar riff or two can be
heard on this album, but for the most part, it sticks to the
patented Morphine formula:infecting groove by a bass or drum and
Sandman’s Leonard Cohen-meets-Jim Morrison vocals.
For all purposes though,
Like Swimming is Morphine’s finest release so far. Intimate,
pensive songs like “Hanging On A Curtain” and “Empty Box” somehow
fit perfectly in between red hot jams like “I Know You” and the
head bobbing “Eleven O’ Clock”. The band even experiments with
distorted vocals and a “what the fuck is he thinkin'” chorus of
“French Fries With Pepper”. Even on the experimental tracks,
Morphine serves its purpose, the chorus will be in your head long
after the album ends.
You can catch Morphine this summer on the HORDE fest, thankfully
headlining the second stage. Morphine is a great group on record
and live. I saw them in Lawrence, Kansas in April and they rocked
the house. Only problem with Morphine’s type of music is it’s too
intimate. The band loses its effect in a venue bigger than
1,200.
Some critics lament that the band is shallow when it comes to
lyrics. While they are not on the level of Pavement’s bookishness,
Sandman sings every vocal like he’s feeling it, just as important
as the words on the lyric sheet.
Easily the frontrunner so far this year for great albums,
barring the fall releses of Liz Phair and Garbage, this looks like
a contender for album of the year in my book. Grab a tonic and
prepare to be impressed. On second thought, make it a double.