Death does unto many musicians what most musicians hope of their first demo tape -- it makes them famous. In the case of Morphine, the death of ringleader Mark Sandman shortly before the album's completion may mean the band will follow the industry trend of posthumous success.
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Much like label partners Eels and Creeper Lagoon, Morphine's soundscapes, as broad as ever on their latest release, "The Night," have been too rich for mainstream audiences to grasp. As a fusion band on a major label (Dreamworks), Morphine matches the candor of any indie group. Perhaps in light of the tragedy that recently struck the band, Morphine finally may receive the attention it deserves.
"The Night" boasts an impressive assortment of flavors, ranging from the dark yet hopeful title track to the distinctly Latin "Rope on Fire." Sandman and regular band members Dana Colley (saxophones) and Billy Conway (drums, percussion) create provocative arrangements driven by the painful cries interwoven in the melodies. Sometimes too minimal or tense for radio, Morphine insists on moving its songs to their emotional thresholds.
Pull or be pulled by the undulating horns; push or be pushed by Sandman's cool rasp; whatever the outcome, be moved.
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The album opens with "The Night." The withdrawn smacking of the percussion drives the song's unrelenting groove, but the true essence of the piece -- and the band for that matter -- lies in the relationship between Sandman's vocals and Colley's brass instruments. While the liner notes credit Colley and Conway with backing vocals, it becomes quite clear that Sandman's partner-in-croon is the horn.
Whether mimicking the depth of Sandman's voice with the bullish baritone sax, or countering his worn sound with punchy tenor sax lines, Colley's horns play cat to Sandman's mouse, chasing his vocals around the album and running circles around the lyrics and accompaniment.
"The Night" sports the slinkiest mimicry of all; the syrupy vocals and horns run down the chin of the track.
"Souvenir," piano-charged and smoky, offers the caress of Colley's blowing, this time providing the chewy wail as a respite from Sandman's smooth operation. The drumming is once again strong and impulsive, the playing field upon which the vocals and horns bump heads.
"Rope on Fire" has an undeniable Latin flavor. Handclaps ground the rhythm section, and the sound of a Spanish guitar plucks its way to the forefront. The result is a beautiful Latin dance-sounding track, conjuring up images of quick feet and roses between teeth.
"Slow Numbers" crawls into the album's last chamber as Colley's saxophone abyss reemerges, walking slovenly at first and more nimbly by song's end, to attend Sandman's drowsy, meditative singing. The lyrical spark at the core of "The Night" is exhibited in Sandman's pensive remarks: "The number four means nothing to me/ But the number four means death in Chinese."
The final song of the album is frighteningly Clapton-esque -- something to be applauded. The acoustic guitar leads the bluesy, laid-back barrage and Sandman lets loose with new, heartfelt voice inflections not previously heard on "The Night." The string section enters for a dose of call and response, and a horn again offers a stirring plea. This combination in "Take Me With You" offers a completeness not achieved elsewhere on this or any other Morphine album; the band's heightened musical consciousness is represented.
Sadly, it is a bittersweet achievement. Sandman's death preceded an album that should compel music enthusiasts to round up Morphine's earlier albums, hoping they possess the same genuine dedication to musicality that exists on "The Night."
"Like a mirror," Sandman says early on the album, the band's sixth and final full-length LP, "I'm nothing 'til you look at me."
Grade: B+
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