I’m a big fan of the release pattern Beck has established for himself. After making albums on which he explores the outer edges of pop and rock, every now and then he turns into a modern-day Nick Drake and records a quiet, acoustic album. His latest record, Ride Lonesome, is exactly that.
It all began in 2002 with Sea Change. Inspired by a painful breakup and written in the space of a week, the album saw Beck explore his experiences through melancholic ballads reminiscent of Neil Young and Elliott Smith. Although I like Beck’s records from the 1990s, and the first signs of this direction could already be heard on 1998’s Mutations, it was only here that he revealed himself to me as a truly fascinating and distinctive artist.
Much of the credit goes to producer Nigel Godrich, who had previously shaped the sound of albums such as Radiohead’s Kid A and Amnesiac and Travis’ The Invisible Band. With his help, Beck left behind the hip-hop and funk influences of his earlier records and turned towards more atmospheric, emotionally resonant songs in which his voice sounds exceptionally moving.
Since then, Beck has continued to release albums exploring almost every musical genre – from hip-hop to country – while regularly returning to this intimate, acoustic style. In 2014, he released Morning Phase, which won two Grammy Awards and clearly expanded on the ideas introduced on Sea Change. Its folk ballads were accompanied by subtle orchestral arrangements that wrapped themselves around the songs and broadened the album’s sonic palette.
Ride Lonesome is Beck’s fifteenth album and the third on which he has returned so decisively to calm, acoustic sounds. But does it stand apart from Sea Change and Morning Phase? The former is dominated by sadness, while the latter contains considerably more hope. Ride Lonesome, meanwhile, has a deeply meditative quality – something I noticed from the very first listen.
There are, of course, several songs with obvious single potential: the title track, the beautifully drifting Disappearing Act and the most immediately striking song on the record, In the Night. As a whole, however, the album is carried by Beck’s remarkable voice and immersed in reverb, echoes and carefully measured orchestration. Listening to it can put you into a soothing trance. It feels like the right album for these unsettled times.
As with Morning Phase, this is an embarrassment of riches. I still often listen to that album on repeat and cannot find a weak moment on it. There is nothing worth skipping on Ride Lonesome, either. Beyond the singles are songs such as Failed Words, which sounds like a lost epic ballad from the 1980s. And if you think Beck has saved the weakest material for the end, think again – If You Don’t Know What Love Is features one of the finest choruses he has ever delivered.
It is also worth noting that Beck reunited the group of musicians he had worked with on Sea Change. Nigel Godrich returned as well, this time mixing the new album. Almost every song contains a small detail that subtly transforms its character. The outro of Run Away features a beautifully judged synthesiser part that completes the song. Something similar happens in It Ends Right Here, a composition built around two chords that opens up into multiple layers during its finale. To me, these details bear Godrich’s signature: their precision and use of space recall his finest earlier work.
For anyone with a soft spot for American folk songwriting, this album may prove to be an extraordinary experience. Beck has brought this formula to perfection.