TITUS ANDRONICUS - The Most Lamentable Tragedy (Merge Records www.mergerecords.com)

It's A Triumph!

By Rich Quinlan

Titus Andronicus has always been, at the very least, a fascinating band. Regardless of one’s impression of their music, their sound is remarkably distinctive, and this continues on their sweeping twenty-nine song rock opera (yes, another rock opera-oh The Who, what hath thou wrought?) titled The Most Lamentable Tragedy, which like their band name, is a sly Shakespearian nod. According to vocalist Patrick Stickles, the general plot of TMLT involves a man locked in a punishing depression who meets a person just like him in every way except personality. While the main character is self-loathing and dark, his identical twin is positive and hopeful. What motivated bands to undertake such mammoth works is beyond my comprehension, so if one simply wants this for the music, TMLT is a wild wide through a vast array of styles with tremendous substance. The opening atmospheric intro of “The Angry Hour” is a perfect first impression for a whirlwind of a disc. One is treated to rollicking indie punk on “No Future IV” and “Stranded (On My Own)”, while “Lonely Boy” snarls its way through what sounds like The Jam hanging out with the Dead Boys, and “Look Alive” is a blink-and-you-miss-it fist fight full of unbridled rage and speed. Once one moves beyond these early pieces, the opera takes on a multitude of personalities through the lush keyboards of “The Magic Morning” and the beautiful, exotic ambience that dominates “More Perfect Union”. Meanwhile “(S)he said/(S)he Said” has a classic arena rock vibe and “Mr. E Man” (awesome title) sounds like Titus Andronicus has the E Street Band as backing players. The storyline is a touch unclear, but musically, TMLT is a buffet of styles and deliveries, as “Fired Up”, “Fatal Flaw”, and “Please” each contain massive riffs and a slightly light-heated, almost early 80s tone. Two other highlights are the cover songs; the innocent, piano-laded “I Had Lost My Mind” by Daniel Johnston and “A Pair of Brown Eyes” by the Pogues. Both of the originals were excellent, and to TA’s credit, they pay loving homage to each, yet also make these songs truly their own, something that they also do with “Auld Lang Syne”, or what most of the world knows as the New Year’s Eve song. I love the “Intermission” here- a few sections of absolute silence before the band launches into “Sun Salvation”. The story concludes with a flurry of unique works including the noisy interlude of “The Fall”, another piano ballad “No Future Part V: Endless Dreaming” , seven seconds of nothing rightfully titled “[seven seconds]” and the lush closing “A Moral”. This is not a record to which I would run back to often, but if one has the time, attention span, and appreciation for the bizarre, Titus Andronicus has a sterling work on their resume.

It's A Mess!

by Jim Testa

Love him or hate him (and there's not much room in the middle,) Patrick Stickles is Titus Andronicus. Even Pitchfork's fawning 1,600-word review of The Most Lamentable Tragedy never mentions another band member by name. So whether or not you love this sprawling, 2-CD (triple-LP,) 93-minute rock opera will pretty much depend on how you feel about Stickles.

Undeniably there's a camp that feels the Jersey native represents his generation's Springsteen (with more integrity and less commercial crossover,) a blue-collar warrior rising from the punk-rock underground. Then there's Collapse Board's Scott Creney, who wrote, "Based on his interviews, Patrick Skittles seems like the worst combination of egomaniac & victim. And based on his music, he seems likes the worst blend of Rancid & Springsteen. Remember kids, just b/c you are a manic-depressive doesn’t mean you can’t also be an asshole."

I won't go that far, although I do think Stickles has largely gotten a free ride on the fact that his songwriting incorporates the worst aspects of emo (narcissism, relentless self-pity, and an almost pathological fear of women,) and his mush-mouthed vocals can be harshly one-dimensional. (I've also seen him live on several occasions where he was so drunk that he could barely stand up straight, let alone sing intelligibly.)

But I digress. My problem with The Most Lamentable Tragedy is that critics (and fans) who praise it never describe the arduous process of listening to it, which means sitting still through 29-tracks for well over an hour, eyes glued to a libretto (excuse me, lyric sheet) because there's no way the human ear can understand Stickles' garbled delivery.

A full third of the album qualifies as filler, from uninteresting instrumentals to two tracks of total silence. I guess that passes for Art with a Capital A in 2015, but it sure makes listening to this a chore. (What Stickles really needs, either in his band or at his label, amd clearly doesn't have, is someone to say, "No, Patrick, that is a bad idea.")

People tell me there's a thin storyline here somewhere about a manic/depressive meeting his doppelganger, but good luck trying to follow the "plot." Like most rock operas, this is mostly a collection of songs united by a vague theme, although operatic concepts like an overture, repeating musical themes, or creating distinct characters clearly aren't in Stickles' wheelhouse. (So why call it an opera? Because Green Day did one?)

So what's left? A lot of songs that sound like other Titus Andronicus songs, obviously, and if you're a fan, those are the ones you'll want. Even I concede there are a few keepers here, although I will probably never listen again to the tracks inflated by Who-like arena-rock bombast, those purposefully sung painfully out of key, the pointless cover of "Auld Lang Syne" (as if this thing didn't have enough filler,) and the rather ridiculous "Come On, Siobhan," which sounds like Springsteen's Seeger Sessions Band doing Rancid. I'll also go on the record as saying 10-minute songs by anybody (except maybe Television) are always a bad idea. And there are two of them here.

I'll pretty much guarantee that The Most Lamentable Tragedy makes dozens of Best Of 2015 lists at the end of the year. I'll also guarantee that none of those writers are listening to this thing from start to finish on a regular basis. Not unless they have the patience of a saint or the attention span of a gnat. This is a 69-minute headache with occasional flashes of brilliance. Enjoy those, by all means, but let's not pretend this is not a seriously flawed album.