Valleys can be beautiful places. Often, the more dramatic the mountains that surround a valley, the more stunning the view will be, both from the top of the valley and from the bottom. But take away the mountains, and leave the valleys surrounded by other valleys, and what would you get? There wouldn't be any valleys at all. Just endless, rolling plains as far as the eye can see. Now, maybe I'm spoiled, being from a place where there's a lot of diversity in elevation, but when I leave my native Southern California for points much farther east than the Rocky Mountains, the scenery just doesn't interest me as much. And I know a lot of folks who would characterize a lot of the central plain states as being rather boring. Perhaps those who live there may appreciate the constant flatness more. But the thought of it does nothing for me.
But this is a music review, not a travel review. So why am I talking about geography? Well, it seems to provide an apt analogy for how I view music. When I was younger, I expected my music to be all mountain peaks, all the time. I had a hard time enjoying the slower, subtler stuff. Since then, I've come to appreciate musicians who offer their fair share of both mountains and valleys, carefully using the contrast between the two to sculpt an interesting landscape. Slow songs posed as a comedown after an intense high can often be some of the most beautiful moments on an album (rock albums in particular). But if the landscape is only made up of those slow songs, with little variance in tone or method, then it can become a tedious and dull journey.
Lifehouse apparently hasn't realized this on their third and latest album. The Southern California-based rock trio seemed to grasp the concept on their debut, No Name Face, on which the tallest mountain, "Hanging by a Moment", proved to be a massive hit, but which also featured splendid slow songs such as "Trying", "Breathing", and "Everything". It took some getting used to, since they had a fairly standard rock sound and none of the songs packed quite the same wallop of the lead single, but that was a fairly solid album. And no one could blame them for exploring their rocking side a bit more on the follow-up, Stanley Climbfall, which produced a moderately successful single in "Spin", and which had a cluttered, wall-of-sound approach in several songs that worked in spite of itself. Perhaps they had veered a bit too far from the more acoustic roots of some of No Name Face's more intimate moments, but the album was still a compelling listen most of the way through. However, their latest disc, simply titled Lifehouse, is all valleys and maybe a few hills. No mountains. Not much variance or innovation to the music at all. And that's sorely disappointing.
I can't blame a band for trying more of an intimate approach. It's worked well for plenty of other rock bands. With bass player and founding member Sergio Andrade exiting the band last year, along with temporary guitarist Sean Woolstenhulme, lead singer Jason Wade and drummer Rick Woolstenhulme were kind of left in the lurch. An incomplete band can't really rock out that much. So they scaled things back, I guess, while looking for a new bass player (which they found in Bryce Soderberg). Unfortunately, rather than the result being something dreamy and sublime, Lifehouse has become an utter bore, for the most part. I can't quite pinpoint what's different - the change in sound wouldn't seem all that radical if you were to only listen to the mellower songs from the first two albums. The biggest problem is that the material just isn't there. None of these songs compel me to care the way that Lifehouse used to be able to do so easily.
On this album, I'm only barely hearing much of anything compelling me to care. In place of the soul searching that grounded those past two albums, I'm getting more of a depressing vibe. Maybe Jason’s in a slump? Maybe he’s been through some hard stuff in the past few years? What's the deal? I want to sympathize with the guy, and feel something as I listen to a batch of songs which seems to have been an emotional release for him. But I can’t relate because the lyrics are just too vague. This isn't a moral problem that I have with the album - it's an aesthetic one. There isn't much to fill in for this glaring absence. Lifehouse has essentially lost the thing that made them stand out. No doubt these 12 new songs all derive from personal experience, but they often rely on generic language that makes it easiest to assume Jason's just bummed out over girls and feeling lethargic in general. And I'm sure it's about a lot more than that, but I don't have much to interpret here. Only once or twice does Jason make me feel like I want to know what he's mumble-singing about here. Aside from that, Lifehouse is a wholly forgettable album.
Come Back Down
Staring right back in the face
A memory can't be erased
I know because I tried...
The opening track sets an appropriate space for the entire album - a dry, mid-tempo drum beat and unassuming guitar work introducing a song that struggles to get going. I suppose the band doesn't have a bad composition here - the acoustic guitar picking is a pleasant enough backdrop to keep the verses from getting boring. It just feels like the kind of track that should be at the third or fourth track on a Lifehouse album - not the first. While it may lack a chorus that genuinely sinks in, the song is a semi-compelling plea to a person who is flying high for some strange reason, who Jason wants to "come back down" to his level or something like that. "I won't be the one who lets go of you", he promises, and it makes me wonder if this person is a drug addict, or who is on the verge of death, or who has let newfound celebrity go to his or her head (see Stanley Climbfall's "Just Another Name" for a better treatment of that subject). He slips into a nice falsetto during the bridge, which helps the song build some momentum, but then it ends about as unassumingly as it started.
You and Me
What day is it, and in what month
This clock never seemed so alive...
I don't know what's worse - the fact that we're only at track two and we've already degenerated to a dull, predictable ballad, or the fact that this dull, predictable ballad was chosen to be the album's first single. I'm usually partial to songs with a 3/4 rhythm, because it can help break up the 4/4 monotony of a lot of rock albums. But here, I just feel like the song is crawling, grasping for something interesting to do or say about fifteen seconds in. Not surprisingly, it's a love song, and the lyrics are written in about a generic a fashion as possible - "'Cause it's you and me, and all of the people with nothing to do, nothing to prove" is what the chorus says, and elsewhere we get sentiments such as "I can't take my eyes off of you." The band has also brought in a string arrangement to jerk tears, and this too is utterly predictable. I've made plenty of derisive comments about CCM bands overusing "weepy strings", and just because Lifehouse isn't technically a CCM band doesn't mean that I should let them get away with it. I can just imagine how radio deejays will approach this one: "OK, we're gonna spin the latest single from Lifehouse for ya - it's called 'Not Hanging by a Moment'."
Blind
I would fall asleep, only in hopes of dreaming
That everything would be like it was before
But nights like this, it seems, are slowly fleeting
They disappear as reality is crashing to the floor...
Now this is more like it! Well, sort of. If taken in comparison to the surrounding songs, this one can be seen as adding a little energy to the mix - maybe not at first with its relaxed electric guitar riff and steady rhythm (Rick Woolstenhulme is a major disappointment throughout this disc, seemingly not knowing how to do more than one thing for the duration of a song), but once it gets going, it really starts to sizzle. Here Jason is singing to someone whom he loved, and who left him in pain. Sure, it's an old subject that's been played to death, but Jason makes it appealing by using a grittier, more frustrated tone as the song builds to its chorus. That he is able to do this without coming across as whiny is a testament to what a great voice this guy has. Sure, he may sound like he's sleepy as he mumbles the verses to most of his songs, but when he lets loose, he really lets loose (see "Hanging by a Moment"). As a result, this track seems to drag a lot less than the others, even though it stretches to nearly five minutes.
All in All
Things don't stop, and the others announced they're moving on
Salt and tears in the minds in the mouths of a bad decision...
Another acoustic-driven mid-tempo song shows up here, with another string arrangement augmenting it (this type the arrangement was actually done by Jason). Thankfully there's more of a whimsical feel to the strings here, since this is more of a pop song, but the effect is a light one that barely even registers. It's a song that never fully "kicks in", kind of like "Sky Is Falling" from the previous album. Jason does sound like he's tried a bit harder on lyrics here, with his words poetically describing the act of losing one's identity to please the crowd (or something like that). Unfortunately his attitude here seems a bit fatalistic, so his only advice seems to be to sit tight and let stuff happen to you, and it'll all be OK in the end. I mean, if you're gonna have angst, then go ahead and sound angry, but if you're trying to be upbeat, give us something a little more substantial than this!
Better Luck Next Time
Stop, tell me, where you going
Maybe the one you love isn't there
You're going under
But you're over it all, so you don't care...
Continuing our trek across the mid-tempo plains, we run across this song with its slightly tweaked electric guitar riff and yet another boring drumbeat from Rick the Percussion Robot. Highlights here are a melody which twists back on itself right before the chorus, which has slightly thicker guitar work and more impassioned vocals from Jason. The way he half-shouts and half-sings the words kind of reminds me of Train's Pat Monahan, but not nearly as annoying. (Train and Lifehouse should actually be buddies now that both have devolved into dull adult contemporary rock bands, now that I think about it.) The band actually does a fairly decent job of creating a whirlwind of sound in the middle eight, with Bryce's bass line bubbling up through the thick sonic texture in a rare Stanley Climbfall-esque moment. But am I detecting a cynical tone on Jason's part? "Maybe the one you love isn't there." The song could be about anything, I guess, but it's kind of a disheartening line. The music kind of feels like a second-gen version of "Somebody Else's Song", which ain't a bad thing, but dude, Jason, what's with the pessimism lately?
Days Go By
I know it's never gonna be the way you like
I know you don't wanna think about the endlessness you find
You wait, forever blind...
At last, something upbeat! Not that I'm so shallow as to think a song is defined by its tempo, but you can only do so many medium-paced numbers in a row before they all start to bleed together. The lead guitar lines here almost sound like something that you'd hear on a modern country station. The band has basically given us a song about not wasting time, which fails to take hold because it talks about time in generic terms and relies on elementary rhymes like "years and fears". The backbeat is solid, if uninventive, and Jason's occasional falsetto is nice (plus I like the way he sings the word days - "day-ees"). Overall, it's a pleasant song, if not much else.
Into the Sun
I never meant to let you go
Why did I leave, maybe we'll never know
But I'm a man now, broken on the ground
I'm in need, and I think that it shows...
Back to the slow drudgery. This song may be the most frustrating moment on the album - it's a languid ballad that proceeds to go absolutely nowhere in its five and a half minutes of airtime. The drums stutter along and the band sounds about as excited as an exile on a long march through a barren desert. The only real highlight here is Jason's versatile voice, which sounds awful pretty switching back and forth from his lower register to falsetto mode, and I might detect some sort of a mandolin or classical guitar faintly plucking away in the second verse, but that isn't enough to make a song worthwhile. It's another song about a guy leaving a girl, and the title shows up as a dull background vocal to a thoroughly uninteresting chorus - really, the sun has precious little to do with the rest of the lyrics. Jason can't even come up with a bridge, so he fills time by singing "aah" and "na na" a lot. Yawn.
Undone
You know I can't be like everybody
Cause I can't tell you what you want to hear
I don't know if I can make it better
All I know is I will be around...
Here the album tries to get upbeat again with a song about coming undone. Have you guys learned nothing from all of the CCM bands I've criticized for falling back on the old "come undone" cliche? (See MercyMe and the uber-bland Building 429.) Sure, maybe your fans don't listen to those bands, but that doesn't mean you can make the cliche interesting. It's a shame, too, because songs that tell us "Pain is part of learning who you are" generally have some semblance of wisdom to back up such a claim. Jason can't seem to expound on that statement, though, so he brings in another set of stock cliches about the whole world coming crashing to the ground, and promising he'll be around. Blech. The band goes for a little more of a jangle effect once the song gets going, but thanks to the banal lyrics, it's beyond hope at that point.
We'll Never Know
And we're not gonna live forever
Can you tell me, is it now or never
I'm not gonna make up your mind...
The band goes for the poppy, jangly thing again here, and it sort of works, though I feel like this one should have shown up much earlier in the album. Jason's mood is a little more optimistic here as he pleads for a girl to give him a chance, because "We'll never know until we try". Yeah, this one's got the names of WB-watching set on it (and that's about the only audience who probably cares about Lifehouse any more) - I can just see this one conspicuously blaring during a crucial lovey-dovey moment on Smallville or something like that. "I don't want to live without you, and I don't want to live a lie", he explains. It's pleasant, but inconsequential, because once again, we've heard it all before. I can't blame the band for trying their best to amp it up with some persistent "na na na"s, and this is one that I can sort of enjoy if I'm not thinking too hard. They get a few bonus points for another unpredictable, twisting melody during the bridge.
Walking Away
The same old streets, just a different name
Same old house, just the family's changed
Picket fence, the window stains
Freedom spells by a man in chains...
Well, at least Rick's plodding drum beat is semi-interesting this time. I actually like the subtlety of Jason's guitar parts this time around. The song's got an appropriately sad quality to it, and the lyrics actually bring enough clarity to make the song about someone specific for a change. Dipping into the same well that produced some great early songs like "Trying", Jason draws on the painful memory of his parents' divorce, facing it head-on as he addresses his father and asks if the guy still remembers him. The imagery of his family's old house, with a new family occupying it, works well here - for once he's giving me something tangible to picture in my minds' eye, so that I can be there in his memory with him. While the song starts to feel bogged down further in, it's got a beautifully moody bridge. Rick falls down as usual by not varying his drum beat at all, but the song still comes out a winner thanks to the subject matter and the appropriately sad tone of it.
Chapter One
All the leaves are turning and the sky fades to gray
Strange, our life coincides with the seasons of today
Who's to say where the wind will blow...
Is that a Fender Rhodes I hear? Whatever it is, it adds a slight hint of a playful tone as this album ambles towards its unassuming conclusion. I kind of like how Jason's voice follows the keyboard melody here. It's another song about picking up and moving on after a disaster, which is nothing we haven't heard in at least two other songs, but the context is more tolerable here. I feel like Jason could have expanded on the metaphor he used in the title (which occurs nowhere in the song), but oh well. Some more strings show up later; they're less intrusive and manipulative than they were in "You and Me", so I don't mind their presence. This song actually sounds like it wouldn't be a terrible note on which to close the album, but alas, we have one more song to endure.
The End Has Only Begun
We walk in your footsteps, though I've had my ups and downs
And I'll stand in the silence until I figure it out...
The title of this song is ironic, given that "The Beginning" was the official closing song on Stanley Climbfall, but I can promise you that's the most interesting thing about the song. Vying for the title of "Lifehouse's dullest moment", the band gives us more generic tripe about chasing answers that don't want to be found, blah blah vaguely spiritual angst cakes. Kind of a nice bridge melody here, I guess, but if they're going for a whimsical effect, they've failed miserably. The song's too bogged down to even be noticeable. Shoot, it doesn't even sound like the type of song you'd end an album with. After Jason declares, "These times when the world falls apart make us who we are", a subject which he's already devoted plenty of vague lyrics to earlier in the album, the song just trails off an ends, leading us back around to the beginning that doesn't sound like a beginning. Did these guys even think about track order, or did they just throw their two or three favorites at the beginning and leave the rest wherever it lay?
An All Music Guide critic perhaps said it best: "Lifehouse is a rock band that doesn't rock." And they're not doing much interesting in lieu of rocking, either. So if generic mid-tempo radio fodder is your thing, then you might be able to mine some short-lived enjoyment from this disc. As for me, it's a purchase that I sorely regret by a band that I had honestly regarded as being solid enough to not let me down.
ALBUM WORTH:
Come Back Down $1
You and Me $0
Blind $1.50
All in All $.50
Better Luck Next Time $1
Days Go By $1
Into the Sun -$.50
Undone $.50
We'll Never Know $.50
Walking Away $1.50
Chapter One $1
The End Has Only Begun -$.50
TOTAL: $8
Band Members:
Jason Wade: Lead vocals, guitars
Bryce Soderberg: Bass
Rick Woolstenhulme: Drums
Website: http://www.lifehousemusic.com
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