To me, there is no better artist than
one who fearlessly treks across genres, venturing through new sonic territory
while remaining grounded in their own performance. Though hard to come by, a
record where instrumentation and lyrical themes are more constant than genre
standards is always a fun listen, and even more so when it is executed with
both precision and thought. In my search for such a record, one name synonymous
with diversity kept poking its head into the foreground: Beck. Though familiar
with his radio hits, I’d never spent any time actually verifying the hype of
eccentricity around his music, and when a copy of Guero made its way into my possession, I quickly slipped it into my
car stereo, to hear for myself what this independent legend was really all
about.
Beck is an artist known for creating
sonic cocktails, and Guero certainly
wants not for this variation of genre, energy, or instrumentation. However, more
so than anything, this record sharply focuses every tune through the two lenses
which have been with Beck since the beginning: hip hop and folk. Most of the
songs are based on a twanging, acoustic guitar riff, and even after the tune
has been collaged into the final product, that plucking, folky riff remains, as
Beck maintains the simplistic roots of his composition in the forefront of the
arrangement. But rather than continuously playing that same riff, Beck further
pays homage to his origin by sampling his own playing and looping it through
the song, a shout-out to hip-hop and his early days. Almost every tune displays
these elements, making the overall flavor of Guero one enriched by age and experience.
This kaleidoscopic concoction of folk
and hip-hop on Guero creates a very
strange and unique direction from which Beck approaches his composition. Though
the tunes are built on a structured foundation, with most following the same
verse/chorus pattern, the sound of the record is anything but formulaic. Funky
drum beats that could move even the most stoic of crowds chug underneath
grooving guitar and growling bass. The arrangement choices reflect this
diversity as well: “Missing” and “Emergency Exit” bleed acoustic guitar, yet “E-Pro”
and “Black Tambourine” burn through stompbox fuzz and effects, while “Girl” and
“Rental Car” rely on poppy synths. Though Beck handled much of the musicianship
himself, this record is permeated with performances from an array of other
musicians, including Justin Meldal-Johnsen and Jack White, further diversifying
the already broad sonic spectrum. Furthermore, the entire record reflects the
essence of movement, regularly changing pace, energy and genre, keeping the
listener steeped in fun and rousing composition while simultaneously drifting between
dimensions.
On Guero,
Beck seems to find thirteen completely different ways of saying his name,
giving us tracks that are strange and exciting and completely extraordinary.
His compilation of different sounds, styles, and attitudes creates a listening
experience in which we are unable to guess what we are going to hear next.
Beck’s track listing keeps far apart tunes that sound remotely similar, letting
each song flow into something wholly unrelated, providing an eclectic journey
for his fans. For instance, halfway through the record, we get to groove to
twanging guitar, scratchy turntables, and a smooth organ in “Earthquake
Weather.” This tune’s gentle jive carries us along, until we suddenly collapse
into the driving hip-hop beats of “Hell Yes,” where Beck’s improvisational rap
stomps between strange samples and synth reminiscent of 8-bit. We then unwind
into the gentle trudge of “Broken Drum,” Beck’s ballad-like ode to Elliott
Smith.[1] With
reverb-laden guitar, an electronic beat, and keys leaking in towards the end,
“Broken Drum” sounds almost like a B-side from Mellon Collie & the Infinite Sadness, sprawling slowly into
oblivion before finally leaving us in the folk-pop fusion of “Scarecrow.” This
small section of the record is as eccentric in its turns as a late night taxi
driver, yet it asserts Beck’s commitment to making an album that moves and sounds
like no one else.
The lyrical content of Guero is just as unconventional as the
composition. In further respect to his origins, much of Beck’s writing for this
record feels highly improvisational, a callback to his days as a busker.[2] This
freestyle approach to writing, where the first thing in the mind is the first
word out of the mouth, leads to a very nonsensical tone in the words, which
stems from his roots in anti-folk.[3]
For instance, in “Hell Yes,” Beck quickly slides through the elegant but
strange lyric: “Skeleton boys hyped up on purple / Smoke
rings blow from across the disco / Bank notes burn like broken equipment / Lookin’
for shelter, readjust your position.”[4]
Though there may be intrinsic meaning buried somewhere in there, because of
Beck’s casual and immediate approach to the words, phrases like “See the
vegetable man in the vegetable van / with the horn that's honking like a
mariachi band” have a hard time communicating their significance.[5] However,
Beck’s unique voice and capable hands also produce some killer images, such as
in “Scarecrow,” where he paints a scene of desolation and emptiness: “I've been
diggin’ the ground / Thru the dust and the clouds / I see miles and miles / And
the junkyard piles / I wanted hope from a grave / I wanted strength from a
slave / What gives you comfort now / Might be the end of you then.”[6] Although
there seems to be no need to close-read the lyrics on Guero, their flow of sound and connection in imagery are certainly
worth your attention.
Though Beck’s
poetry falls short of the mark, his instrumental sensibilities speak with more
than enough volume, and in no tune is the music more driving than in “Go It
Alone.” Built on a simple bass line and a simpler drum beat, this song is
dominated by the idea of rhythm. The bass roars next to a palm-muted guitar, a
combination that rumbles to its core. The instrumentation is relaxed and
modest, moving at a stroll, creating the perfect environment for Beck’s casual
vocal. He sings his conversational phrases with a subtle confidence that really
locks the listener in, weaving a subdued mood that locks with the groove in his
voice. Though straightforward and humble, “Go It Alone” evokes an album’s-worth
of feeling in one song, a prime example of Beck’s uncanny ability to pull so
much from something so unadorned.
After a month
of spinning this album during my commute, I now feel like I have a small idea
of what all the fuss is about. With Guero,
Beck smashes and crashes together every sonic concept available to him, but
does so with a grace and intelligence few acts possess. His cognitive and
austere approach provides us with some thought-provoking and strange tunes, but
without any of the pomp and attitude held by most musical geniuses. Beck builds
his foundation on performance and songwriting, so that even though he may weave
his album through genre and form, breaking virtually
every rule of success in the music industry, we can absorb the simple,
Sunday-morning fun at the heart of his endeavors. The deliberate madness of Guero is something worth experiencing,
and I look forward to exploring the strange, Dali-esque landscapes of the rest
of this extraordinary musician’s catalog.
Tunes to Check Out:
1) Earthquake Weather
2) Farewell Run
3) Go It Alone
