James Vincent McMorrow has never played by the rule book. Although the Dubliner’s career may have panned out somewhat differently from what he once expected – most notably around the time he was signed to a major label and made real inroads in territories such as the US and Australia – he has managed to wrest some control over his destiny in other ways.
Over the years, “doing things his own way” has entailed surprise-releasing albums such as True Care, from 2017, and unexpected collaborations with acts such as Rudimental, Kygo and producer Kenny Beats. The follow-up to 2022′s The Less I Knew, an album titled Heavyweight Champion of Dublin 8, was touted for release that same year but has yet to materialise.
In its place is another experiment in McMorrow’s canon, which took root in two phone-free gigs at the National Concert Hall in Dublin last year. The work-in-progress performances of this new material inspired him to “expose the flaws and also highlight the special little moments” before recording what ultimately became this, his seventh studio album.
McMorrow’s approach to making music, and his apparent newfound or at least newly galvanised insight into the process, are especially audible on these songs. A sense of vulnerability is threaded through tracks such as Never Gone, with its refrain of “What the f**k are any of us really doing here/ Do we really exist at all?” sounding less nihilistic when set against a backdrop of the soulful, uplifting harmonies that McMorrow has always done so well. Things We Tell Ourselves and Day All the Lights Went Out are similarly emotionally exposed. “If I seem distant, love, I apologise,” he sings on the latter. “I was not ready for you to see me crying.”
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This is a musically ambitious record, with Look Up!!!’s banjo and electronics colluding for a playful, theatrical soundtrack. The title track takes a swerve into sun-dappled 1970s MOR, aided by the lonesome quiver of lap steel guitar. The punchy, easy-going Give Up, which features a contribution from McMorrow’s five-year-old daughter, is delightfully catchy, while the jittery handclaps of Things We Tell Ourselves add an agitated energy to proceedings.
There are a handful of pared-back numbers, too, most notably the rough-around-the-edges White Out and the softly plucked Stay Cool, although the latter strays dangerously close to Damien Rice’s more mundane material. As pleasant as those pared-back acoustic tracks are, the best songs here are the ones where McMorrow allows his creativity to take full flight, swooping and swerving into unexpected places and often finding a settled groove after a restless beginning.
It sounds as though the past couple of years have seen him rethink both his place in the world and his approach to music. Whatever it is, it’s working.
[ James Vincent McMorrow on lockdown: ‘You question how well-rounded you are’Opens in new window ]
