My Morning Jacket
Okonokos

THE REVIEW

There are certain albums and bands for which applying an objective measure of analysis is futile and reductive. Fortunately, music is still primarily a bearer of emotions, and in some cases, using technical musical terms to describe it does not convey the emotional weight contained within. In an era characterized by superficial listening, the downside of indiscriminate file sharing practiced by almost everyone, finding oneself listening to an album uninterruptedly for weeks is almost a miracle. The miracle is even greater if the album in question is a double two-hour live recording.

Too many are the beautiful and bad moments shared with the My Morning Jacket to express an impartial judgment on their music. It triggers a sports fan-like mechanism, a musical crusader-like loyalty that hardly allows for criticism or rebuttal.  To be honest (believe me, it's as difficult for me as it is for a Catholic to dip the host in coffee with milk), My Morning Jacket are fundamentally a hard rock band with country and gospel moments, at times even a bit kitsch due to the falsetto vocals of the singer (and band architect) Jim James. But I obviously don't believe that. In my small world, Jim James is the Messiah and his "Flying V" the papal staff, symbol of earthly and divine power. A fallible god just the way I like it, so full of himself that he allows himself to repeatedly miss notes on my favorite song "One Big Holiday," without batting an eye, persevering instead. And persisting is fortunately devilish.

The band, for its part, reveals what was already apparent from the studio albums, namely a spectacular live physical and emotional cohesion and intensity, both in the reflective moments ("I Will Sing You Songs," the lyricism of "Gideon," the ecstatic sweetness of "Golden") and in the more muscular ones ("What A Wonderful Man," the tribal acceleration of "Run Thru," the warm Hammond of "Anytime"). A band with a terrifying range of solutions, capable of switching from the steady reggae with a psychedelic tail of "Off The Record," to a haunting ballad ("I Think I'm Going To Hell") to the warbles between Neil Young and Antony of "Dondante."

Ultimately, an album that captures the band at its artistic zenith, drawing bold comparisons with sacred monsters like Led Zeppelin, with whom they share the same 360° rock approach.
Personally, album of the year.