Rating: 72
Don’t be carelessly seduced by the sunny pop on Beck’s new disc, “Modern Guilt” — those ultraviolets are deadly. There’s no denying the beach-party vibe on songs such as “Gamma Ray,” but in all that sun, Beck only sees a bad moon rising. “If I could hold out for now, with these icecaps melting down,” he sings on “Gamma Ray,” and there’s a laundry list of other weather hazards on the horizon. “Modern Guilt” is full of the “light music, dark mood” dichotomies that Beck gravitated toward on “Guero” and “The Information,” but the melodies and arrangements, delivered with economy at 31 minutes, shows newfound inspiration and life.
Much of the credit goes to Danger Mouse, who shares Beck’s devotion to classic ‘60s pop structures — the title song could be a lost Turtles gem if not for the bubbly bleeps from the trusty, musty Moog. The apocalyptic Motown rhythms on “Orphans” suggest the Mouse’s regular gig, and Cee-Lo shares Beck’s penchant for cheery dread, but this is hardly “Gnarls Beckley.” The dreamy psychedelia of “Chemtrails” is actually closer to Beck’s old tour mates, the Flaming Lips, dropping listeners into a beautiful abyss of crashing drums and innocents disappearing into the deep blue sea.
The frustrating element of Beck’s recent work is its disconnection — since the devastatingly personal “Sea Change,” his lyrics keep listeners at bay. But “Modern Guilt” closes with “Volcano,” in which Beck ponders his continued value to people around him and considers flinging himself into the magma. “Volcano” shows that the increasingly guarded artist can still connect with an inner dread even when most of his concerns are outside his skin.
— George Lang