Dave Matthews Band
Everyday
Dave Matthews was bummed out when he sat down to write songs for his new album, and it showed in the material. Rather than scribing a batch of groove-friendly good-time tunes, he was penning dark, soul-searching numbers channeled from the deepest regions of his being. Songs like "Busted Stuff," "Grace is Gone" and "Digging a Ditch" (all available on Napster) spoke frankly of Matthews' turmoil and dissatisfaction. These were the songs Matthews took to the studio to prepare his new album with longtime producer Steve Lillywhite. Of course, Dave Matthews Band isn't some angst-ridden indie acts, and the suits from RCA Records quickly intervened, insisting that Matthews record some peppier pieces with a new producer. Soon, Matthews was hooked up with Glen Ballard, a professional music industry fix-it man who has supplied sonic Prozac for artists like Michael Jackson, Paula Abdul and Alanis Morissette. Ballard quickly took scissors to Matthews' gloomy numbers and began anew, prodding the artist to create the kind of bouncy, upbeat material that made him famous. Within days, the new DMB album was written and the result, "Everyday," must've had the record execs salivating like a pack of Pavlovian dogs at dinnertime. The poppy clang and clatter of "I Did It" ambles happily along like a shaggy dog on a summer day and the lighter-waving power ballad "Angel" should be topping the charts any day now. There's not a hint of irony in the fact that DMB includes a power-ballad called "Angel," as it has essentially morphed into Aerosmith for the Sting set. Throughout "Everyday" Matthews skips his acoustic guitar in favor of a crunchy, Def Leppard electric model. Making it worse, Ballard hams it up on synthesizer like Europe's "Final Countdown" never happened, sounding as if Paul Shaffer joined DMB. Underscoring Ballard's pop sensibilities, the songs are kept short, short, short with nary a single track going over the dreaded five-minute mark. One of DMB's former charms was its willingness to draw songs out long after they should have ended. Not to be confused with jam band noodling, DMB's previous efforts allowed for a fair amount of space and texture, lending its songs an airy, floating quality light years more nuanced than your average garage band. That whole concept has been trashed here, given to the ways of Ballard's candy corn impatience. Sax player Leroi Moore and violinist Boyd Tinsley have been demoted to the status of sidemen, chiming in only when the chart-conscious tunes allow for a bleep or blip. The songs aren't all that bad or that different from DMB's previous output, just overstuffed from too much studio tinkering and synths. This is undoubtedly the record that DMB's record company has been trying to squeeze out of the band since it was first signed, and the chirpy collection of sweet soda pop is certain to win the cola wars for RCA this year. Too bad it's peddling the musical equivalent of New Coke.
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