Like a lot of people, my real introduction to Beck was this album. I had heard "Loser," of course, but I'd never delved into Mellow Gold or any of the (less accessible) albums before it. When I discovered Odelay (his first major label release), it made some kind of weird sense that threaded the needle of my '90s kid slacker appetites, my love of rap, & my retro Bob Dylan obsession. Beck owes a lot to Dylan both lyrically & musically: "Ramshackle" could be a lost Dylan tune, & there is a direct hat tip with the sample of Them's "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue" cover that appears on "Jack-Ass." That was actually my first favorite song on this album, with its heavily processed xylophone & languid pace giving me instant nostalgia.
There are pitfalls to writing lyrics like '60s Dylan, though: it's really easy to generate complete gibberish that way. Beck seems more into Dada-esque absurdity than Dylan's careful poetics--you can't convince me that "Heads are hanging from the garbageman trees/Mouthwash, jukebox, gasoline" has a deep meaning to it, but it sure sounds cool--though there is a respectable amount of thought put into the lyrics beyond just a thrillride of language.
The cut-&-paste ethos of the lyrics is echoed in the collage artwork: cowboys, eastern mysticism, wildlife, cartoons, ads, forgotten movie stills, all the detritus of a disposable pop culture landscape wheatpasted together in a booklet that dares you to make sense of it. Of course, this aesthetic continues in the musical approach Beck & the Dust Brothers (well-known Beastie Boys producers) employ. Much has been made of the genre-hopping: psychedelia, Americana, rap, lounge music, grunge & about 8 or 10 other genres are mixed throughout the album like smoking mad scientist beakers. But what interests me more than the genre-bending is Beck's rock-solid songwriting, ear for melody, & musicianship (he plays no fewer than 16 instruments over the album's course). From the folky chord progression of "Lord Only Knows" (again, heavily Dylanesque) that ascends into a deceptive cadence, to the balance of unusual percussion on the Revolver-esque "New Pollution" to the Sonic Youth noise rock of "Minus," Beck's always got another songwriting trick up his sleeve, & there's an offhanded joyfulness in the virtuosity he displays.
"Where It's At" might be the best-known song on this album, & I admire the way it pays tribute to hiphop without coming off as either appropriation or parody. Beck mixes '60s hepcat jive talk with his mixed-media poetics & loose, imperfect but authentically felt guitar solos (both acoustic & electric), all over a beat anchored by a funky organ & smooth horns. Beck is probably the best rap artist who has never claimed to be a rap artist.
Truth be told, while I respect the hell out of him, I've never been the biggest Beck fan. I love his restless creativity, his intelligence & restraint (mixed with the right about of idiocy & bombast), his seemingly genuine lack of fucks to give about his music's commercial appeal or lack thereof. I've heard most of his albums, & there are songs I love from all of them. For some reason, Odelay is the only one that ever truly clicked as an album. Then again, I'm only 36, so I haven't entered my crusty old music nerd Beck phase quite yet. Ask me again in 5 years & I'll probably tell you Stereopathetic Soul Manure is the pinnacle of human achievement.
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