This album answers the question, "What would it sound like if Fleetwood Mac were angry all the time and wildly indiscreet?" The title track, and much of the album, gives us (too much) detail about singer Natalie Maines' divorce. Remember when "stars" would rather die than give sordid minutae on the worst aspects of their private lives? The Mac's "Go Your Own Way" blew that away, so now weThis album answers the question, "What would it sound like if Fleetwood Mac were angry all the time and wildly indiscreet?" The title track, and much of the album, gives us (too much) detail about singer Natalie Maines' divorce. Remember when "stars" would rather die than give sordid minutae on the worst aspects of their private lives? The Mac's "Go Your Own Way" blew that away, so now we get tweens singing about the unbearable trials they've been through from age 12 to age 15 (check in with me in 30 years, Ariana), and the adults are even more brazen. Along the way to spilling the beans, the Chicks forget their trailblazing selves and fall victim to music cliches - first verses with minimal instrumentation to make sure we get every nuance of the nuance-free lyrics, songs just ending in a we're-out-of-ideas way instead of a great fade-out or dynamic denoument that makes you want more. Did someone accidentally stop the recording?
Their famous harmonies show up, but not as much as usual or as one would like. They also often leave behind or bury the bluegrass instrumentation that formerly meshed with the pop to keep the country feel while also feeling fresh and new, and too many ballads cut the edge too much. Here "March March" comes closest to that famous mesh of country and pop, but it starts with synth blips and, well, it's a, you know, march. The overall feel, despite the vocals, is precision. An album with this overpowering theme could have used a ragged musical edge here and there.
The clear concept of this album is ex-bashing, which is popular now but a little unfair sometimes - "Why does everybody love you?", Maines sings, making clear that she doesn't share the sentiment. There's always a chance, though, that if you're the only person that doesn't love someone, maybe you're a tiny part of the problem, eh? "So dig a little bit deeper, and be a little bit kinder", they pontificate in between tearing the ex a new one in public and tearing the ex a third one in public. It becomes embarrassing. "Tights On My Boat" fills in deets that the title track teased at - that damned boat! What a nightmare, right up there with Ellen Degeneres whining about being stuck in her mansion. How do these people muddle through? Maybe if you didn't have to have a boat.... Maines then tells victims of bad men to calm down ("Juliana Calm Down"). Uh...
In "Young Man" she tells her child that "my blues aren't your blues", but they are if he listened to this album. "Leave the bad news behind", say The Chicks, right after she told the other folks to "try to only think about the bad things you remember". Uh... Then more ex-bashing, and then for a change, more ex-bashing. Jesus, ladies, you killed Earl, but he didn't rate an entire album. By the time this one winds down with the plaintive "Set Me Free" (wait, didn't she just set herself free for eleven songs?), you have repeated that phrase in your head for about a half hour. They're still talented (though if I were Martie and Emily I'd be bummed to be relegated to sidemen on what's clearly a Maines solo record), but I think they need a new lyrical direction, or at least to decide whether they're victims or survivors, because survivors don't spend all their time talking about when they were victims.
(And speaking of victims, to the "reviewer" who said this album was a diatribe against Trump and all political, neither Trump or politics are mentioned much. Actually listen to the album first next time. Juliana, calm down.)… Expand
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