In the Morse Code of Brake Lights

While Neko Case’s moonlighting from her solo day job allows her to enliven the proceedings, it’s obvious that the ensemble, as a whole, contributes to the richness and resonance that the new album exudes in its entirety.

In the Morse Code of Brake Lights has a tone of thematic consistency that isn't always apparent in a New Pornographers album, but with this group, music has always carried more weight than lyrics, and on that level, it's an especially strong effort from an act that's never been short on stylistic ambition.

Sure, the hooks and the lyrics are as sharp as ever, too, the latter functioning as part anxious messages-in-bottles, part baroque bubblegum life preservers. It’s panic-attack pop, fretting its way through vintage good-time chord changes, and letting us know we’re not alone.

The playful tumbles of verbiage are as central to the group's sonic identity as the key components of its baroque power pop. [Nov 2019, p.28]

It offers a myriad of listening pleasures on the surface, and the further one digs into its contents, the more one can find to enjoy until one concludes that the journey of discovery is its sole purpose. That may be a common trope, but rarely is it achieved so delightfully.

The sheer, exhilarating high of early albums is gone, as is the laser focus pushing through to the end of songs. There are more sideways glances, more pauses. They can sprint when they need to, but not forever. This release proves that they don't have to anymore.

Case and Newman trade lines, finish each other’s thoughts, reveal the unspoken meanings of the songs; they’re old friends who find sustenance in each other’s presence. The essential humanity at the heart of this relationship offsets the dread that flows throughout In the Morse Code of Brake Lights, and gently leads the record toward something resembling hope.

If In The Morse Code Of Brake Lights isn’t remembered as the peak of The New Pornographers' work, its heart is squarely where it needs to be—and is still head and shoulders above most of the choices we are presented with these days. Electoral or otherwise.

It doesn’t sound like one of Newman’s more intimate, acoustic-focused solo albums, exactly—too many orchestral flourishes, hyperactive keyboards, and Case showcases for that—but at least half of it feels more like A.C. Newman & Friends than any of the band’s previous efforts.

Despite any nitpicky issues one may find with In the Morse Code of Brake Lights, it's refreshing to see the New Pornographers, 20 years into their existence, still trying to swing for the fences.