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Rating: The Morphine have always been in my heart. More precisely, their music has always been in my heart. Soft, jazzy, intimate like never before. Like a small orchestra down in the lower floors where the voice is hoarse and the smoke is thick. I unconditionally adore all the albums by the Boston band with a preference for "Cure For Pain", a true hidden treasure (at least that's how I like to think of it) from the '90s. How would they have transformed/evolved if Mark Sandman hadn't tragically passed away on stage (heart attack) in a lousy Italian summer?
This posthumous "The Night" from 2000, created in perfect isolation in Mark's home studio (but rather well-equipped) just before he died, dramatically heightens the regret. The arrangements here appear fuller with piano, organ, some guitar (very few in reality), cello, and other various pleasantries, but the mood of the record does not change an iota from what is typical of Morphine: dark, melancholic, dense. Indeed, if possible, the songs are even more introspective and nocturnal. Sandman's voice is more intense and baritonal than ever, while Dana Colley's sax (coincidentally baritone) intertwines naturally with both the bass (two strings, Mark used to say they were more than enough) and Billy Conway's schematic and precise drums (famous for the almost non-use of cymbals). In short, as always, it becomes difficult to describe a work of this kind as the sounds are truly unique in the world. A blend of blues, jazz, even lounge influences from which the trio extracts the darkest matter.
The opening "The Night" is a small submerged gem where the voice envelops you by surprise like darkness in an alley. And you remain there, hypnotized, without any possibility of escape, moreover hindered by immediate physical and cerebral relaxation. Every single song penetrates deeply within you ("Like a Mirror"), draws you into delicate imaginary worlds (the stunning and Arabian "Rope on Fire"), and at the moment the music leads to the final "Take Me With You", I am sure you will try (it happens to me this way) to physically prevent its conclusion...
Then the lyrics: Sandman is also a great songwriter, his lyrics focus more on evoking images, more often than not decadent, distressing, and claustrophobic, perfectly in line with the emotionally unsettling (but at the same time enchanting) mood of the music. All this to say that "The Night" is a completely fitting title, indeed, I would say perfect. It's the moment it was surely written, played, and the moment it should be listened to.
"The analgesic activity of morphine unfolds on two fronts: raising the pain threshold and simultaneous reduction of the emotional response to the pain itself. This means that even when the sensation of pain is not completely eliminated but only lessened, it is still made much more tolerable if not negligible in relation to the absence of its emotional corollaries: anxiety, panic, fear, suffering, prostration."
Considering also that this substance causes strong addiction, tell me now: is there a more fitting name than Morphine to describe their music?
Tracklist Lyrics and Samples
01 The Night (04:48)
You're the night, Lilah
A little girl lost in the woods
You're a folktale
The unexplainable
You're a bedtime story
The one that keeps the curtains closed
I hope you're waiting for me
'Cause I can't make it on my own
I can't make it on my own
It's too dark to see the landmarks
And I don't want your good luck charms
I hope you're waiting for me
Across your carpet of stars
You're the night, Lilah
You're everything that we can't see
Lilah
You're the possibility
You're the bedtime story
The one that keeps the curtains closed
And I hope you're waiting for me
'Cause I can't make it on my own
I can't make it on my own
Unknown the unlit world of old
You're the sounds I've never heard before
Off the map where the wild things grow
Another world outside my door
Here I stand I'm all alone
Driving down the pitch black road
Lilah you're my only home
And I can't make it on my own
You're a bedtime story
The one that keeps the curtains closed
I hope you're waiting for me
'Cause I can't make it on my own
I can't make it on my own
02 So Many Ways (04:01)
Is this the way that you like it?
Is this what you had in mind when you called above to the angels for the six hundred and sixty sixth time?
Hey, what about this? What about this. Shake it.
What do you want and how do you like it? How many times is this the right socket?
What do I wear and what do I say? Please tell me again how we get there.
Please tell me again how we get there.
So many ways to get a lift. So many ways to get your head unzipped.
Too late for anymore questions. The preamble is done. The overture's ended.
The drawbridge is up. Cat's out of the bag and looking for a sofa to scratch.
Looking for a sofa to scratch.
This the way that you like it.
This what you had in mind when you called above to the angels for the six hundred and sixty sixth time.
Hey, what about this? What about this. What about this. Shake it.
So many ways to get a lift. So many ways to get your head unzipped.
So many ways to get a lift. So many ways to get your head unzipped.
So many ways to get a lift. So many ways to get your head unzipped.
(Mark talking backwards for a second)
03 Souvenir (04:40)
I remember meeting you, we were super low. Surrounded by the sounds of saxophones.
And I remember being this close, but never alone. You gave me a little something to take home.
I dropped it on the floor. I dropped it on the floor. Dropped it on the floor. I dropped it
If I can only remember the name that's enough for me because names hold the key. Names hold key.
If I can only remember the name that's enough for me because names hold the key. Names hold key.
Souvenir of nothing.
Brought home a souvenir of nothing. It fits into a pocket.
A souvenir a souvenir of nowhere. Somewhere I've never been before.
I dropped it on the floor. I dropped it on the floor. Dropped it on the floor. I dropped it
If I can only remember the name that's enough for me because names hold the key. Names hold key.
If I can only remember the name that's enough for me because names hold the key. Names hold key.
A souvenir of nothing. A souvenir of nothing.
I remember meeting you, we were super low. Surrounded by the sounds of saxophones.
04 Top Floor, Bottom Buzzer (05:43)
First we'll pick Priscilla up. And then we'll stop for Jane.
And Mary Ellen needs a ride. We're going by her place.
We're going to a party. Our friends will all be there.
I got the directions. It's across the river somewhere.
We rang the top floor, bottom buzzer.
Top floor, bottom buzzer. Top floor, bottom buzzer.
The middle won't work. Ring the one under.
Priscilla's in the kitchen she's mixing drinks.
She's mixing one for me I think.
And one for Mary Ellen and one for Jane.
Priscilla, she knows how to use a shaker.
She doesn't get up as early as a baker. Uh huh.
There's a muchacha, teaching me to mambo.
There's my buddy Pete eyeing a bowl of combos.
Ramona and a man do a tango dip. Cheek to cheek, hip to hip, come on.
The window's open it's the heart of the summer.
More people coming looking for the number.
Mary Ellen sees them she has a little stutter. She yells...
T-top floor, b-bottom buzzer. Top floor, bottom buzzer.
Top floor, bottom buzzer. Top floor, bottom buzzer.
The middle won't work. Ring the one under. Come on. Woo.
It was later it was after two.
We found a bottle of good chartreuse.
The lights were green and gold. We played Latin soul.
By the time Priscilla put the Al Green on the bottle was gone.
On the top floor, bottom buzzer.
Top floor, bottom buzzer. Top floor, bottom buzzer.
The middle won't work. Ring the one under. Come on. Woo.
Top floor, bottom buzzer. Top floor, bottom buzzer.
Top floor, bottom buzzer. The middle won't work. Ring the one under. Come on. Woo.
05 Like a Mirror (05:26)
Like a mirror I'm nothing. I'm nothing. I'm nothing till you look at me.
I'm like a mirror. I'm like a mirror. I'm nothing till you look at me.
I'm like a mirror. I'm like a mirror. I'm nothing till you look at me.
I'm like a mirror. I'm like a mirror. I'm nothing till you look at me.
Martha Lee.
Leave your world, come to me. I'm closer to you than I seem.
Wish upon this melody and come to me Martha Lee.
Leave your world and join me soon. Leave your world behind.
You can take the Saturn Line. In no time, no time.
I know a ship that's leaving soon. Oh, in fact this afternoon.
So don't forget your parachute. I'll be there to catch you.
And you my future constellation. Climb up here in the sky with me.
Leave your world and come to me. I'm closer to you than I seem.
Oh, wish upon this melody and come to me. Come to me.
Leave your world and join me soon. Martha Lee. Martha Lee.
I know a ship that's leaving soon. In fact this very afternoon.
So don't forget your parachute and I'll be there to catch you.
I'm like a mirror. I'm like a mirror. I'm nothing till you look at me.
I'm like a mirror. I'm like a mirror. I'm nothing till you look at me.
07 Rope on Fire (05:36)
Hand over hand up the lifeline, luckily the knots stay tight.
Silhouettes of the two of us climbing, climbing up a rope on fire.
Climbing up a rope on fire.
Trapped in a room in a fortress, running outta air to breathe.
Only seconds to go and we'll break free, I didn't think that we would reach.
Only the two of us can disconnect the bomb.
And save ourselves before the oxygen is gone.
I'll call for backup, you start to scream.
It's not the first time we've been in this dream.
She ripped the wings right off my back.
She whispered deep, keep it on the track.
She said you're no angel, no angel anymore.
All the wheels are coming loose. Close-up shot of a burning fuse.
The sky is filled with question marks. Will the chains come apart?
These few seconds that I've left to go. Flames and chaos down below.
And the earth opens wide. Got to climb a rope on fire.
Look at the clock. Look at the clock.
Make it to the car but the car won't start.
Me try to move the car but there's no more time.
We'll have to climb a rope on fire.
Hand over hand up the lifeline, luckily the knots stay tight.
Silhouettes of the two of us climbing, climbing up a rope on fire.
Climbing up a rope on fire. Climbing up a rope on fire.
Only the two of us can disconnect the bomb.
Then save ourselves before the oxygen is gone.
I'll call for backup. You start to scream.
It's not the first time we've been in this dream.
09 The Way We Met (02:59)
No there's nothing too romantic about the way we met.
That's not to say it doesn't make a certain sense.
Maybe it's just the kind of people that we are.
That's not to say whether it's right or wrong.
It's not right or wrong. It's not right or wrong.
There's no cute story that we tell together.
Laughing and finishing each other's sentences so charmingly.
Truth is it was all an accident.
Just like it is for everybody else.
But then again it was all and accident.
Just like the way it is for everybody else.
Later we had toast, took turns sitting on the windowsill.
Like two fields of wheat, sent signals cross the kitchen sharp and sweet.
There's no cute story about the way we met.
We just woke up one day in bed.
Shouted out for alarm clocks. Where's the remote control?
Put the blankets and the chairs against the windows and doors.
And stayed close together, trying to stay warm, oh.
Now there's nothing too romantic about the way we met.
That's not to say it doesn't make a certain sense.
Maybe it's just the kind of people that we are.
It's gone to far to be right or wrong. Now, now, now, now.
10 Slow Numbers (03:58)
Lazy boys and shy Dianes. One at a time, single file.
They counted the low numbers as they walked by.
I count a high number. A low number. Among the slow numbers.
The number four means nothing to me but the number four means death to Chinese.
Number seven is lucky in Japan. Here we don't give a damn.
But on the elevator, no thirteenth floor.
On the elevator, no thirteenth floor.
Thirteenth going up. Going up... Going up...
Relaxing as I wait in line. Some of the numbers lose their smiles.
Specially the numbers one through nine.
Because they're only seating parties of ten or higher.
For the dancing the question mark sticker and the mermaid kickers.
The number four means nothing to me but the number four means death to Chinese.
Number seven's lucky in Japan. Here we don't give a damn.
But on the elevator, no thirteenth floor.
On the elevator, no thirteenth floor.
Going up... Going up... Going up...
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Other reviews
By lux
"To me, this seems a generally uninspired album, the sax that in the past fitted magnificently with Mark’s two-string bass has lost its incisiveness here."
"’The Night’... is a rather dull album, with the exception of the title track and a few other sporadic moments."
