“Soy un perdidor,” Beck sang in 1994. “I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?”
What a difference 12 years makes. The Beck of today, at 36 still an affable, slightly disturbed musical chameleon, is infinitely more sophisticated than his old slacker self. His obsessions with exploding tacos, dyed poodles and L.A.’s throwaway culture feels far less pronounced in 2006.
Anyone who has stuck with him this long knows it’s a good thing, despite his occasional creative misstep or self-indulgence. The man has never released an outright bad album, but some (“Guero,” “Mutations”) feel more forced than others.
Beck’s new disc, “The Information” (Interscope), comes out today. Three years in the making and more than an hour in length, it reasserts his bizarre, boundary-pushing instincts and random sense of humor. Then again, Beck has never played by the rules or, seemingly, even read them in the first place. Why should he start now?
Opener “Elevator Music” coasts on a slinky sideways bass groove while dropping lines like, “If I had a soul to sell, I’d buy some time to talk to my brain cells.” The insistent “Think I’m in Love” slathers
“Eleanor Rigby”-style strings over its spare beats, building on the adept arrangements he featured on “Sea Change,” although with peppier inflection.
The hilarious “Cellphone’s Dead” recalls the neon song-jokes on “Midnite Vultures,” with its sweet ’80s squawk synth and high keyboard notes. The rollicking piano on “Strange Apparition” is ripped straight from “Beggars Banquet”-era Stones. It’s the most triumphant song on the disc, fist-pumping, melodic and oddly traditional.
“Soldier Jane” eschews Beck’s dirge-like tendencies, its digital surf crashing into analog beats with rhythmic regularity. “Nausea” and “1000 BPM” are more gloriously unhinged than anything Beck has recorded in years, sounding especially fresh after last year’s overcalculated “Guero.”
Returning with a lighter hand than on past Beck sessions, producer Nigel Godrich allows the ratty edges to linger instead of trimming them neatly.
A single listen convinces you that “The Information” is the best thing Beck has released since “Sea Change.” And like his breakthrough album “Odelay,” it’s a doggie bag of cultural table scraps that’s greater (and weirder) than the sum of its parts. So what if Beck’s a Scientologist and yoga-addicted pretty boy? So what if he’s completely shirked the Dylanesque rants that defined his slacker period?
He still spits slippery lines like “Think tanks empty to the national dream bank.” He still defies lazy tags and criticisms. He still forces fans to redefine their expectations with each new album.
In other words, he’s still Beck.
“The Information” is a substantive and wholly satisfying meal. It’s the culmination of everything Beck has learned over the years, and a clever turn for an artist constantly reimagining his own limits.
A loser? No way.
Staff writer John Wenzel can be reached at 303-954-1642 or jwenzel@denverpost.com.
