Spiritualized, Let It Come Down (Arista) 9+
With all the talk of 100 piece choirs and massive orchestras, one imagines an ambitious opus turned so bloated that it collapses in on itself. At times, Let It Come Down narrowly escapes disaster by the skin of its teeth, making its ultimate success all the more impressive. Sole surviving member Jason Pierce could have relied on the space-rock formula so winningly accomplished in 1997's Ladies And Gentlemen...We Are Floating In Space. Instead, he bravely leaves behind the drones and trippy sounds for new waters, which Pierce tentatively dipped his toes in on Live At Albert Hall. The album kicks off with the surprisingly rocking, swaggering "On Fire," which melds Firewater, The The and a gospel choir. "Out of Sight" continues winningly with a lighthearted melody and a full-blown orchestra lead by an acoustic guitar. Lurking in the background is a reverbed electric guitar, just to remind us that Pierce has not completely forgotten his roots in Spacemen 3. "Do It All Over Again" starts with a vocal showtune melody that gradually flirts with cringe-inducing bombast, climaxing, pulling back, swelling once again like induced nausea, then fading in a sappy epilogue. Like your old copy of Electric Light Orchestra Out Of The Blue (fill in equivalent here), you feel sheepish for it, but you can't help but like it. The transition flows uninterrupted into "Don't Just Do Something," its gentle, sing-song tunefulness interrupted by majestic blasts of an army of trombones, tubas and god knows what else. Again, it barely tips the scales to powerful rather than contrived. "The Twelve Steps" dresses up a riff from "Electricity" in new pimp clothes, complete with Isaac Hayes blaxploitation strings and police sirens. "The Straight And The Narrow" sounds like Camper Van Beethoven leading an orchestral waltz, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. It isn't until the eighth track, ironically the album's first single, "Stop Your Cryin'," when Let It Come Down stumbles. Imagine Jesus Christ Superstar III, with an excruciating chorus meant to make your heart swell, with tympanic drums and that damned gospel choir. This is bad, very, very bad. The more subdued and stately "Anything More" recovers, and the epic ten and a half-minute "Won't Get To Heaven (The State I'm In)" redeems, justifies, and testifies. Pierce hardly reached the heights of Duke Ellington or Gil Evans, benchmarks he pretentiously set himself against. He doesn't even manage to equal the efforts of contemporaries who he refuses to pay any mind to, like Mercury Rev and Super Furry Animals. But it beats the hell out of Cats. A guilty pleasure for closet indie-rock showtune lovers.
