Ever wonder what it sounds like when a bunch of people are falling asleep while recording an album? Or how about the sound of an artist totally giving up on their craft, but still making music? Well, you're in luck because Lucinda Williams has released West, an album that does all of that and more!
Lucinda Williams has previously been an alt-country artist that has enjoyed heaps of critics fawning over her, in place of much mainstream success. 1998's Car Wheels on a Gravel Road did go gold, and deservedly so, thanks to its gritty vibrancy and unforgettable songs. 2001's Essence wasn't as successful, probably because of the depressive gloom that hung over it. And then things took a turn for the downright horrible with World Without Tears, an unremarkable effort by anyone's standards. But now Williams has done the impossible by making an album that's even more boring, even more depressing, and just flat out sucks. I normally don't reduce an album to merely "sucking," but I'm making an exception for West.
Judging by the sound of things, it seems like Williams put no time whatsoever into writing any of these songs. Almost all of them have a simple two-chord progression, rarely doing anything but moving up then down, up then down. Each one shuffles along at a snail's pace, droning on like an uninvited guest who won't leave your house. "Wrap My Head Around That" is the worst offender, clocking in at nine minutes, with - surprise! - only one chord progression going the entire time. It's nothing short of torturous. The only song with any kind of energy is "Come On," but it's cancelled out by its terrible lyrics.
That brings me to the other reason why West climbs to such high stratospheres of suckiness: the lyrics. Though I don't own Williams' entire catalog, I feel confident in saying that she has never written more embarrassing lyrics than these. The previously mentioned "Come On" features gems like, "Dude, you are so fired / Shut up, I'm not inspired" and "I'm sorry I ever flirted / The effort wasn't even concerted." And if you think that's the worst, Williams reaches her lowest point on "What If," where she tries to imagine a world where everyone is happy. Cute concept, but it becomes a joke when she wonders, "If cats walked on water / and birds had bank accounts."
Though Lucinda Williams has reached the ripe age of 54, that should be no excuse for tumbling downhill so harshly and so abruptly. Many artists are able to stay consistent well into their fifties, some even into their sixties. It has to be something else putting this huge stink over everything Williams does, and what that is, we can only guess. Did she stop caring about quality? Is she just out of touch with reality, leading her to think her new albums are actually listenable. Other music rags aren't helping that delusion, what with Rolling Stone giving West an outlandishly undeserved four stars. Shame on Rolling Stone, and shame on Lucinda Williams. We can, and should, expect better.
