Something About Beck by Bob Otsuka

A Retrospective Review of Morning Phase

Bob Otsuka

I’ll never forget the first time I encountered Beck’s emotive and ridiculously catchy electronic single, “Defriended” last summer, just before I headed out to catch 4th of July fireworks with my parents. I could barely contain myself as I soaked in its bombastic production, almost Age of Adz-y synths and atmosphere, and tried to figure out its groovy 5/4 time signature. “This is it,” I thought to myself, “I never thought he’d ever top Odelay, but he did it, and here it is.” I was thoroughly convinced I was listening to the best Beck song—maybe even the greatest song ever lived until later that summer he did the impossible and released the even groovier “Gimme”—a two-and-ahalf long single—on double LP, accompanied by a 10-minute “Georgic mix” and an incredibly strong, constantly interesting 25-minute long extended mix of the song spanning across both sides of the second disc. These singles weren’t the first time Beck’s dabbled in this extended-form, experimental electronica style, either. Earlier in the year, he curated the (admittedly mildly disappointing) REWORK_Philip Glass Remixed album featuring his gorgeous, 21-minute piece “NYC: 73-78” as the obvious centerpiece. Which is why I couldn’t help but feel incredibly disappointed and even a bit let down when the first true single from February’s Morning Phase, “Blue Moon” dropped—it was clearly a Sea Change throwback, an album whose hype I’ve admittedly never fully understood. I was willing to remain open-minded about one of my musical idols’ upcoming release, though. The premiere of the pensive and string-laden “Wave” with the LA Philharmonic helped with that—it wasn’t exactly my cup of tea, but at least it was the ever-changing and diverse Beck I’d come to know and love again.

Imagine my dismay to hear every single one of the first reviews of Morning Phase comparing it to 2002’s Sea Change, and how could they not? The album’s first full track, “Morning,” is such a throwback to “The Golden Age,” right down to the chord progression, strumming pattern, and pensive electric piano line, if it didn’t have Beck’s name on it, I would have been worried about a potential lawsuit. I hated it. “I already own Sea Change, why do I need to own it again?” was my conclusion, frustrated by the constant barrage of cries of “It’s Sea Change 2!” As if that was a good thing. The few fellow die-hard Beck fans I spoke to shared my opinions. It seemed to us that Beck had, despite my disdain for the phrase, “sold out” to appeal to those who didn’t get Beck like we did. As you might be able to guess, though, looking back on the album almost three months

later I can’t believe I ever felt that way. Morning Phase exhibits an incredible sense of maturity and growth not only from Sea Change, but spanning across Beck’s entire career. Morning Phase is slow and mellow, even painful at times, much like Sea Change, yes, but rather than wallow in those emotions, Morning Phase instead encourages the listener to take up truth, beauty, and resolve as the best weapons against an overwhelming feeling that the world is totally fucked. This album comes after a back injury so severe that Beck couldn’t pick up a guitar in years, and it certainly shows—it’s just as much about recovery as it is about pain, heard most clearly in songs like “Blue Moon” and “Morning.” Beck definitely wants us to think about Sea Change with Morning Phase, but it isn’t to appeal to the legions of Sea Change fans—instead, Beck wants the listener to remember Sea Change and see how far he’s come since then. This shines through in the album’s lyrical content, sure, but now I realize that its parallels to Sea Change are intentional, the musical growth and improvement presented in it an analog to his own emotions and condition.

I’m still eagerly awaiting the so-called “proper album to follow up Modern Guilt” and further exploration of those singles he put out over the summer, but for now, I’m quite content with Morning Phase. This album is Sea Change 2, and that’s beautiful. Beck is back, baby. 15