by Oliver on June 25, 2023 in Album
Six years have passed Woodstock passed – and thus actually more time than Portugal. The Man needed for their first six studio albums – but you can hear that from the nonchalant Chris Black Changed My Life actually not on.
Finally goes Chris Black Changed My Life the mainstream pop path of the 2017 record, which was trodden with soul, R&B and other nonsensical mannerisms, rather seamlessly – its basic individuality with a mass-appropriate interchangeability tasteful and outrageous, always a bit pleasing and arbitrary, really pleasant, barrier-free and low-maintenance, but displaying more style, talent and skill than the trendy format radio consensus actually demands.
So much is already after the opening quasi-intro Heavy Games IIa beautifully restrained piano number, clear when combined with the one that exemplifies the aesthetics of the record Grim Generation the status quo is determined: Portugal. The Man go (produced by Harry Styles intimate Jeff Bhasker, who also fills some feature positions) straight into the Danger Mouse infected, subdued anachronism groove and swaying optimistically install the catchy, sunny and exhilarating lovable nature of the number that doesn’t offer any really sustainable melodies or absolutely compelling hooks, but instead a few unobtrusively integrated strings and choirs and gospel elements.
Without subsequently such a hit as Feel it Still drive up is Chris Black Changed My Life however, the more homogeneous, more compact and also better album than Woodstock, flowing more coherently, more convincing as a whole. Which, however, is probably only cold consolation for those who are aware of the unpredictable early phase of Portugal. The Man mourn.
Keyword mourning: despite the airy, incidental and seemingly carefree disposition of the music, the record is to be understood as an epitaph, so to speak, the title itself as a tribute: “Chris was one of those people who was like glue; he brought everyone together. His passing really messed with us. The band was in shambles and this record is the first time I feel I made a complete record; a complete thought about our world crumbling of around us and the journey back. While it is a very personal journey, I feel like everyone has a Chris Black in their life; at least I hope that everyone has a Chris Black in their life. That one friend who has a way of making everything right and making everything fun. The one who keeps you in check when you go off course and is always there to celebrate the good times and to support you in the bad times.“
Chris Black Changed My Life is not a particularly interesting album, in the long run it will appear somewhat more appealing than its predecessor, but it will never become the first choice in the discography, but it is quite successful in its basic intention. If you are not at odds with the band’s evolution, you can even appreciate it as being flawless in terms of quality, although it is quickly forgotten.
In the smooth swaying beat of the throttled summer breeze Thunderdome [W.T.A.] returns the favor Black Thought to see the band Streams of Thought, Vol. 3: Cane and Able, who also invited (added somewhat less formulaically) Natalia Lafourcade for a constellation that reads more excitingly on paper than it turned out to be in words. The pre-single Dummy is formulaically very vague Crazy laid out, fits in with its supermarket soundtrack-compatible nursery rhyme melody (apparently contrary to the missing What, Me Worry?) well into context, meanwhile Summer of Luv relaxing strolling with sexy Unknown Mortal Orchestra-saxophone as well as the relaxed twisting one Ghost Town will probably splash effortlessly into one or the other summer playlist: be able to catchy Portugal. The Man.
After the ambient vocoder contemporary interlude Time’s a Fantasy with the retro-synthically strumming Sean Leon, the series of non-committal catchy tunes seems to continue effortlessly in the second half – you can do Portugal. The Man have lost sight and heart, but you can still see the band in the wide-ranging, smoother chart mode not dislike (i.e. bring up really negative feelings).
Doubt sounds like a beatlesque reveling, comforting orchestral Hollywood closing credits without kitsch, which can even drift minimally into a buttery psychedelic jam. Plastic Island embraces that Eels-Radio offer with cautiously cuddly cuteness and makes the abysmal appear so carefree again before the organ-like Champ Edgar Winter’s fervor from the 60s softened in the monotony of the horns, and at the end had the tongue-in-cheek Heavy Metal Red Herring ready and the closer Anxiety:Clarity contemplatively floating with an ethereal patina, 80s flair, Paul Williams and a politically language-sampling message, like practically everything else about this all-round worthwhile thing Chris Black Changed My Life is unspectacular and quickly forgotten, no matter how subversive the circle of form and content may close in the supposed Friede-Freude-Eierkuchen finale: “Heavy games, oh/ You can’t take this back/ Because the present has a past/ Now you’re fucked up forever.“
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