Dude... what happened?
At one point in time, I was a big supporter of the solo careers of all three dc Talk members. I've enjoyed watching the group - once a fun, cheesy Christian rap act - evolve and play with different styles over the years, and I saw the group's temporary split in 2001 as an extension of this exploration, a breaking down of their influences that revealed the musical personalities of each member. Apart from the group, Michael Tait appeared to be the straight-shooter of the three, and when his little side-project, a meat-and-potatoes rock-and-roll band simply called Tait, put out their debut album Empty that July, it proved to me that at least one member could write and perform strong material on his own. While Kevin Max emerged not long after that, and surprisingly claimed a special place in my music collection with the stellar Stereotype Be, Tait remained my favorite of the three guys vocally. (Toby Mac opted to go the route of rapping and screaming like Kid Rock on Momentum, which was fun, but also a tad obnoxious.) Since they also demonstrated some serious chops as a live band, I was looking forward to seeing how they'd follow up Empty in the fall of 2003. Things had changed for the band - Pete Stewart, their original guitarist and long-time friend of Michael's, made a planned exit from the band in 2002, and they recruited Justin York to fill the vacancy. During that year, it also started to look like we weren't going to be hearing from dc Talk as a single entity any time in the near future - Tait and Toby have been enjoying a good amount of solo success, while Kevin has pretty much been jettisoned from CCM altogether. (Some people just don't get it, do they?) More than ever, the pressure was on Tait to deliver a solid follow-up. And I hate to break the news to you, but man, they really botched this one.
I guess I can see how swapping guitarists might cause you to rethink your sound a bit. Pete Stewart was an accomplished axe man, and while Empty wasn't a full indicator of his talent (see Grammatrain and Pete's self-titled solo disc for that), he definitely offered a good amount of musical muscle and lyrical meat to a number of the songs on that album. In his absence, Tait seems to be working with drummer Chad Chapin to write most of the songs - maybe a bit with dc Talk producer and collaborator Mark Heimermann as well. What results are lyrics that are a bit more clichéd and a lot more mushy, which is the record's first problem. I mean, Tait has always struck me as a sensitive type of guy, which isn't a problem for me, but they guy always seemed to know how to pour that emotion into a convincing rock song or ballad. With Lose This Life, it feels like a lot of that emotion has been distilled into middle-of-the-road songs that sort of rock, but lack the density to really take hold. Now, factor in the overbearing use of keyboards and synthesizers on this record, and I don't even know if this could seriously qualify as a rock album, outside of a few songs. Of course, I have nothing against keyboards and synthesizers, when used properly, and entire rock albums have been built around both instruments, but here they just make the album sound oddly dated, as if the band went back in time to the 80's to record the keyboard parts, but then cut the rest of the disc with modern Nashville sensibilities. Weird, isn't it? Even weirder is the fact that the band doesn't even have a full-time keyboardist. It was one thing when rock bands during the 80's went off with their glitzy keyboard solos. It's quite another for a band to build entire songs around instruments that aren't even theirs (although a slew of Top 40 rock acts have been doing this with strings for years).
Now I realize that I'm sounding awfully pessimistic. I suppose I should be fair, and say that Lose This Life isn't a total wash. It's evident that Tait and co. wrote these songs with the hope of genuinely connecting with people - and Michael's passion is clear in a lot of his vocal work on the album. These songs, at their root level, sound like they're borne out of intense personal experience, must like the key tracks on Empty did. While there aren't any ballads as gripping as "Looking for You" or "Unglued", or any rockers as gutsy as "Spy", it does sound like Tait is trying their darndest to tell their listeners that they've been there and they understand. One problem is that I can't really tell where "there" is, since a number of songs are riddled with clichés and don't really make the specific experiences behind them apparent. I guess I'm not a big fan of the sort of songwriting that's so "universal" that it could mean a bazillion different things. On the last record, we heard about friends wounding each other and seeking forgiveness, careless Christians turning people off to Jesus, the pain of divorce, and the trappings of racism. On this record, we hear about a lot of vague heartache, and wondering where God is in the midst of it all, and for good measure, they throw in a really bad 80's song and an unnecessary, out-of-context Christmas song at the end. Whatever ambiance the keyboards and synths are working to build up gets destroyed by these other factors, and that's ultimately where the album fails. Cut away all of the throwaway material, and you're left with two or three genuinely good songs, a junkyard of decent hooks, and some fairly generic rhythm guitar playing to back it all up. Is this coming from the same mind who was responsible for roughly a third of Supernatural, one of my favorite rock albums of all time? Apparently so.
In any event, let's dive in and try to make the most of it.
Lose This Life
Lost, so lost, somewhere in the dead of night
Drifting like a satellite, spinnin' out of control...
The gurgling synths that introduce this album's title track are enough to make you think Tait has taken a left turn into techno. It isn't too long before a gentle wash of guitar and a foretaste of Michael's tasty vocal crooning correct that assumption, though - to their credit, they've managed to pull off a convincing, U2-inspired introduction (albeit roughly the 147,000th one we've heard by a Christian rock band). The band locks into a steady and sonically rich groove that is unfortunately bogged down by an overly simple lyric about the concept of losing life to gain it, which has been explored with much more insight by a lot of Tait's contemporaries. Because of this, the appeal to this track is mostly how Michael stylizes it, starting off the verse with a breathy "I, I, I, got caught in a hurricane", and filling the chorus with rich backing vocals. He tries a bit too hard to create a lighter-swaying moment at the end when he fills the song's outro with meaningless vocalization - "Sha da dee da" and so forth. That pretty much reduces an otherwise enjoyable pop/rock number to a merely average one.
Numb
Somebody talk to me, am I all alone?
When are we gonna wake up?
One of the few pleasant surprises on this album happens early on, as another dark, electronic intro leads into some nice low-end riffing - this song is the only moment where I'm really impressed with Justin's work, to tell you the truth. It's really nothing we haven't heard a million times from the nu-metal camp, and that's not much of a surprise since Tait collaborated with Toby Mac to write this one - I figure the dc Talk alums deserve a chance to fool with that sound since they were mixing rap and rock in an accessible way before it was popular for Christian bands to do so. Chad Chapin's drumming is strong on this one, beating out a tricky pulse beneath Michael's jaded verses about how we're trapped in a society that has lost its feeling, and the fuzzy guitars carry the song's main riff throughout, until the bridge and chorus break into a meaty melody more typical of Tait's work thus far. The song has a strong chorus, and the only real hindrance at this point is the fact that the "rock" factor seems a bit sanitized, as if the band had a great idea for a show-stopper with some real crunch, but it got toned down on the production end of things. Interestingly, the "rap" element doesn't show up until later in the song, when Pillar's lead singer Rob Beckley breaks in with a decent verse that ends in a pointed scream. It sounds out of place at first, but it's kind of fun, and Rob sticks around for the rest of the song, to basically play the role Toby would have played in your average dc Talk song (i.e. interjecting stuff in the background). I see how the song could be improved, but at its core it's a well-written and well-performed song, right up to its cold ending - the highlight of the album by far.
Electric Avenue
Down in the street there is violence
Lots of work to be done
No place to hang out our washing
And I can't blame it all on the sun...
It's no secret that I'm not a big fan of most 80's songs - especially the rubbery, new wave sort of stuff. I guess it always sounded to me like most of it was about showing off their spiffy new keyboards than actually making a point with the lyrics. Having said that, I've enjoyed updated versions of 80's songs by modern acts such as The Echoing Green, so I'm not going to automatically judge a cover song based on the era in which it originated. But this particular song, originally performed by Eddy Grant, is a stellar example of a song that should have remained buried in the 80's. It's freaking terrible, and Tait's effort to update it is highly laughable. I guess it's one thing to play a completely inane 80's song for camp value - but it's quite another to take a song that tries to make a serious point and fails miserably, and sing it with all of the passion you can muster while cheesy electronic bleeps and blurps propel the song along in the background. From what I can gather, the writer was trying to express some level of social consciousness here, talking about poverty and trouble in the city streets and stuff like that, but his metaphors are pretty weak, his ability to rhyme is nonexistent, and his solution to the whole thing is "We gonna rock down to Electric Avenue, and then we'll take it higher". See Michael, this isn't the sort of song that makes me want to rise up and help my fellow man; it's the kind of song that makes me want to rise up, go down to my local Circuit City, pick up the DVD of Short Circuit, and do the robot dance all the way home. Better luck next time, dude.
Fallen
She can feel the weight of the past
It drags her down but she's fighting back
She wants to fly far away from here
She wants a God that won't disappear...
Hmmm... vague piano ballad about a girl who is down and out. The piano's pretty. Melodically, the song's just fine, and the band has created a nice atmosphere. So I guess it succeeds in that area. But what's this girl's problem? How did she get to the desolate and doubting place that she is now. What sort of situation does she want an "alternate ending" for? When Tait based themselves entirely around a piano for "Unglued", I was with them, because that song made sense in the context of the Empty album. Here, I'm left with too little contextual help and too much musical whiplash to really care.
God Can You Hear Me
Oh, this human disease, it's killing me
Tell me, have I been left stranded?
I can't ignore this pain anymore
Won't You help me understand it?
This song, while it continues in the overly "mushy" vein of most of the album, is actually one of the stronger tracks. It bleeds in gently over soft strokes of guitar and synthesizer, not giving away its rhythmic structure until some fast-paced drumming kicks in and Michael lets out a soft "doo-doo-doo-doo". While it's still vague, this track is more convincing in its depiction of a person crying out to God, asking if he's taken God for granted and if his prayers can still be heard. It probably strikes me as more earnest because it's in the first person - Tait just seems to own this song in a very authentic way, despite the lyrical clichés. It's got a certain melodic tug to it that suits the song, and the only strange thing is the quiet bridge, where Michael softly sings, "Say, won't You say that You'll carry me", which perhaps reprises his recent duet with Jennifer Knapp on her song "Say Won't You Say" a bit too closely.
Reconnecting
I can feel You under my skin
Wanna have You light me up again...
I like the basic musical idea behind this song. It's got a weird, slithering, metallic sound underpinning the verses, and some strong rhythm guitar to bolster the chorus, and those elements effectively convey the darkness and desperation of someone who feels out of touch with God. In that sense, "Fallen", "God Can You Hear Me", and this song make a decent mini-suite, even if the subject matter is a little too similar to make the songs stand out immediately. Where I run into trouble with this track isn't so much the lyrics (they're nothing to write home about, but they're acceptable) - it has more to do with the overbearing presence of synthesizers piercing through the other instruments, like angry hornets swooping in for the sting. If it were something that only occurred on this song, or maybe one other one, I could let it go, but this is the point where the band's fascination with the instrument ceases to be cute and starts to be rather disturbing.
Child
Out of place is where you find yourself
Without a trace, you send an S.O.S. for help...
I'll give the band credit for making these last few tracks flow well into one another - the warmer keyboard notes that lead off this song aren't as intrusive as in previous songs. This one is a rather breezy pop number that floats by pleasantly enough, but doesn't leave much of an impression either way. It's only upon closer examination of the lyrics that one realizes this is a song that never met a Christian rock cliché that it didn't like. The chorus alone is enough to make you wonder if Tait was taking his cues from the Christian rock bands of ten years ago - "Child, wipe your tears away, 'cause Jesus cares for you/He knows you're hurting, and all you're going through/Won't you try, just test your faith and see, you'll walk the oceans and believe/He's right there by your side, oh child." Nothing further, your honor.
Heartache
Who you are is amazing
A precious soul so beautifully made
It hurts to see your life fading...
Another piano ballad shows up here, and this one shows a little more promise initially with its unsure, winding melody and the opening lines "Half of you has been taken, the other half is barely holding on." It sounds like he's empathizing with a person who has been through something really awful, but unfortunately, we never get another hint of exactly what it is, exactly how Michael wants to help him or her through it, or really anything. The emotion is conveyed well in a song that mirrors "Unglued" in terms of how its melody pulls at the heartstrings, but the song makes a mistake similar to "Imperfection" on Skillet's last album when it fails to dig deeper - at least with the Skillet song, we got the vague notion that the person was dealing with suicidal thoughts. Here, we have no idea what the person is dealing with, and I think that both the mention of their lost dream and the encouragement about what a special person they are lose their impact because it just feels like it could be said the same way to anyone in any situation.
Free Will
Disconnected, with my hands over my ears
You said You would meet me if I'd reach out...
Well, this one oughta bug all of the Calvinists out there! Whether or not you consider a song about being given the freedom to choose God or not choose God to be bad theology or not, I can guarantee either way that you'll probably find this one a bit annoying. It starts off well enough with a weird, spacey intro, and a cool, syncopated drum beat that shows a bit of inventiveness on Chad's part - take out the lyrics, and this could've made for a fun instrumental jam. Unfortunately, Michael had to go and team up with Paul Colman, the man responsible for writing some of the most vapid lyrics in recent CCM history, and churn out this brilliant piece of work that proclaims, "I got a free will, I'm gonna use it, I got a free will, yes I do." Do you really, Michael? Wanna tell us one more time, just to make sure? It's a textbook example of having something to say but filling space needlessly due to not knowing exactly how to say it - the meaning is sacrificed for an empty chorus. Ultimately, I don't think the song is about taking a stance on the whole Arminianism/Calvinism debate (and that's a fun can of worms if you ever care to open one!) - I think it's simply about Michael realizing he's held certain parts of himself back from God, and feeling a compelling desire to give those things up. It could have been a convicting number if done correctly (i.e. with his old bandmates), but instead it winds up being highly skippable.
Wait
We want it all and we want it now
Caught in a high speed chase, can't slow down
Headed for a panic attack
I gotta get off this one way track...
At long last, the band manages to get themselves revved up for a convincing rock song, offering a much-needed jolt to the album's easy-going vibe in much the same way that "Carried Away" did on the last album. It sure is a relief to hear Justin hammering out some relatively heavy chords as he traverses up the fretboard and back down again - it rocks in a classic sort of way, which is what their first CD did most of the way through. It's kind of ironic that one of the album's fastest and most aggressive songs actually turns out to be about patience and waiting on the Lord - once again I find the lyrics to be rather shallow and unhelpful in terms of conveying whatever spiritual lesson Michael is learning. But it sure his fun to hear him wailing on the chorus - "So I'll WAAAAAAAAAIIIIITTTTT! For You!" Man, it's a shame to have such a great voice wasted on such uninspired lyrics.
Holding Out for Grace
Illuminate this place, let Your kingdom come, heal the broken ones
Father shine, Your light on Your daughters and Your sons...
The song used to officially close the album is a bit of a yawner for me - it's your typical, mid-tempo worship number that sounds more or less like a leftover from the City on a Hill series (which I do believe Tait got in on rather late in the game). It's not acoustic-driven like most of that series was, but it rises to a gentle crescendo that somehow doesn't seem to offer a satisfying finish to the album. The lyrics are reasonable in term of bringing a resolution to the struggle depicted throughout the album - it's a song of surrender and it would work just fine as an inoffensive addition to your average Christian radio play list. But I'm not inspired by it, not even by the "God our God" coda that seems to echo Rich Mullins' classic "Step by Step".
The Christmas Song
And so I'm offering this simple phrase
To kids from one to ninety-two...
Tucked away at track 25 (how clever), Michael Tait has offered his fans a little Easter egg - it's his vocal take on Mel Torme's classic Christmas song. You know, the one that goes, "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire..." and gets all loungey and drippy and sentimental. I suppose that this made some small amount of sense when the record was released last November, and to Tait's credit, he seems to do a magnificent job with the vocals here - kind of funny that a rock singer could sound so convincing in such a context. The problem here is context. I don't like most of the sentimental side of Christmas music to begin with, which is why I avoid purchasing most Christmas albums except for the ones that focus on the more spiritual carols - I just didn't grow up with those sorts of warm memories of Christmases spent with huge families, and we certainly didn't get any snow. I just can't relate. Even if I could, I wouldn't want this tacked on to the end of a rock album. So while Tait's done a bang-up job of putting himself in a time capsule here, I can say without even a hint of remorse that I plan to never listen to this track ever again.
So there you go... I've rummaged through the whole mixed bag for you. I suppose that if you're more of a child of the 80's, and you're not as much of a lyrics person as I am, and you don't entertain silly notions about how rock bands are supposed to actually rock, then you might get a decent enough level of enjoyment out of Lose This Life to justify purchasing it. But not I. This album feels hollow, and it's possible that it was a bit of an afterthought for Michael due to his participation in the !Hero rock opera leading up to its release. Perhaps Michael just has too many projects on his plate (assuming that the eventual comeback of dc Talk is even one of them at this point!), and a rigorous schedule will eventually lead him to drop some of them and re-focus his efforts, but whatever the case, I sure hope he ditches the synths and gets some songwriting help on the next album, because his current lineup doesn't quite seem to have it in them to record an album as solid and full-sounding as Empty. (Ironic, isn't it?)
It's kind of funny to think that Tait's downfall on this record mirrors P.O.D.'s similar failure on an album that was released the same day. It just seemed that good songwriting went out the window, for the most part, after the departure of guitarist Marcos Curiel. Oddly enough, Marcos is now collaborating with Pete Stewart on a project called The Accident Experiment, and all I have to say is that if they ever get around to getting signed and putting out an album, it better be good enough to make up for the pending demise of two bands that I used to really like.
ALBUM WORTH:
Lose This Life $.50
Numb $2
Electric Avenue -$.50
Fallen $0
God Can You Hear Me $1.50
Reconnecting $1
Child $0
Heartache $.50
Free Will $0
Wait $.50
Holding Out for Grace $0
The Christmas Song $0
TOTAL: $5.50
CONCLUSION: If you're a Tait/dc Talk fan and you absolutely must have this, wait for it to crop up in the bargain bin.
Band Members:
Michael Tait: Lead vocals
Justin York: Guitars
Lonnie Chapin: Bass
Chad Chapin: Drums, percussion
Website: http://www.taitband.com
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