Considering the death of his wife in 2008 and his subsequent focus on his family in favor of public work, it would be understandable if Mark Mulcahy’s first full album in close to a decade was a somber one. Any album that ends with “Where’s the Indifference Now”, portraying a suicide, unanswered questions and grieving survivors, would seem to fit that bill. But then, part of what makes Dear Mark J. Mulcahy I Love You so distinct in an already dinstinctive career that stretches back to Mulcahy fronting Miracle Legion in the 1980s, is its bright, easygoing, and often upbeat feel.
Dear Mark J. Mulcahy makes no bones about where it sits musically. Early on, the basic scope is set: Imagine an early 70s never-never world of incipient glam rock and folky pop, UK style. Think of David Bowie if his glam peak was actually Hunky Dory (“He’s a Magnet” manages the neat trick of suggesting Bowie’s Velvet Underground tribute “Queen Bitch” without actually sounding like it) or, even more particularly given Mulcahy’s singing style, if T. Rex’s high point was the self-titled album instead of Electric Warrior. Mulcahy’s knowledge of history shows through in the details: many younger musicians miss these particular artists’ smaller moments in favor of the well-worn higher profile ones.
But while you get a sense of his hard-earned knowledge, Mulcahy doesn't come off as world weary. The previously mentioned “Where’s the Indifference Now” may have a serious subject, but the arrangement is engaging, down to a concluding electric guitar solo, Mulcahy’s singing an energetic rumination that matches the thoughtful lyrics. Similarly, “Poison Candy Heart” may be about a failed relationship, but lines like “I saw you kissing the paperboy” are backed by music that moves sweetly along-- the descending keyboard melody that appears with the first chorus is pure delight, as is a chorused whistling break that mirrors a brief solo introduction to the song. These are representative of Dear Mark J. Mulcahy in general: What drives this record throughout is gentle playfulness.
On a lyrical level, Mulcahy offers quick, vivid portraits of people and situations. Early on, the rumbling stomp of “Everybody Hustles Leo” gives a sense of what surprises Mulcahy is capable of: the verses seem to suggest straightforward (if not simply straight) talk about a woman "who can get milk from a crowbar," among other metaphors. But then the chorus makes it seem like it’s a song about a man, or perhaps someone gay, or a trans individual, maybe something else entirely. And it’s all over and done in two and a half minutes, followed by a slower, steadier groove with another intriguing title “She Makes the World Turn Backwards,” featuring a call and response starting with a hoary medical chestnut: “Where does it hurt?” “Everywhere!”
That so much on Dear Mark J. Mulcahy should be playful without being straight-up comedy songs or heavy-handed "jokes" is one of its best gifts; it’s pretty easy to find yourself starting to lock into turns of phrase rather than letting them pass by in the flow. To pick out three at random: from “Everybody Hustles Leo”: “Who cares, as long as it’s white and you can snort it”; “He’s a Magnet”: “Lady what’s that book you’re reading/ Oh, the Bible/ That’s so interesting/ They’ve got a word for everything in there”; “Bailing Out on Everything Again”: “Now I smell trouble/ You had better roll down the window.”
But if it were all jokes this would be stand-up or spoken-word. That “Let The Fireflies Fly Away” should start with the music settling in while Mulcahy delivers another well-worn joke setup “Waiter, there’s a frog in my...” is one thing. But it’s another when he repeats the phrase only to have a backing chorus add in a “Waiter!” of its own, all with the feeling of one-take ease. (Paul Q. Kolderie’s mixing ear throughout is top notch, everything fitting in just the right place.)
The songs on Dear Mark J Mulcahy often have codas that are honest-to-god codas-- different keys, lyrics that tie up or tie together a song, new instruments introduced-- while there are enough notable moments of instrumental bliss, such as the blended guitar parts on “The Rabbit” or the numerous differing drum fills on “My Rose Colored Friend”, that need no explanation when the pleasure one gets from listening to them is so immediate. From start to finish, Dear Mark J. Mulcahy is a treat. In fact, it may be his best yet.
