Back when he was Five, Ben Folds made punk rock for wussies. With a goofy drawl and sloppy piano-fisting (SFW, natch), Folds alternately threw stones and built glass houses. He'd mock a too-cool coterie of nose-ringed goths and closeted ex-Cure fans (ah, those innocent pre-Killers 1990s!), then let his guard down for ballads about heartbreak and, yes, the abortion that hurtled the Five through fame's window like a post-Final Four student rioter's "Brick". His hipster-baiting, sincerity and modest fame guaranteed a few nasty reviews, sure. Still, Folds challenged cred-consciousness before crying "rockist!" was OTM. Wussy, yes, but worthy.
Folds may as well have dubbed his second "TJ Hooker"-free solo album Wuss and Wussier. Songs for Silverman doesn't mean anything, anyway. Hey, just like the title of BFF swan song The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner! This time out, Folds tries to combo-meal his bratpop funnin' and balladic touchy-feely, but though a genial intelligence remains, the #2 is rarely funny or touching. Forget Rockin' the Suburbs; the new Folds can barely rock an infant to sleep, though at one point he tries.
Wuss-out #1: Opener "Bastard" sneers at an old man. Hey, just like "Uncle Walter"! Except in this case the old man is really a young man who's heard it at all, perhaps a cynical hipster. Hey, just like "Underground" or "The Battle of Who Could Care Less" or "Rockin' the Suburbs" or "There's Always Someone Cooler Than You"! Except, as throughout Songs for Silverman, Folds' once-brutish ivory-stomping has softened to Nordstrom lobby levels (otherwise he's ditched Suburbs' MTV-striving sheen for faux-Five). Dude says this one's really about young conservatives, but the lyrics sure are careful not to crap on potential purchasers' fresh-pressed khakis.
Wuss-out #2: "Jesusland" opens with a propulsive, swirling chord progression. Hey, just like "Ascent of Stan"! In post-Schiavo, Tom DeLay-era, post-contraceptive (wait, that's next year) Amerika, entire box sets could be devoted to ruminations on the nation that neighbors the United States of Canada, from Toby Keith pro to Billy Joe anti, or even apolitically humanistic (hey, just like "Brick"!). Except the best Folds can muster is stale McMansion jokes. Even Time covergirl Ann Coulter wouldn't call Folds a traitor for this bland waffle.
Wuss-out #3: "Late" is about Elliott Smith. Hey, there's a classically unadorned yet vivid Folds lyric: "Elliott, man, you played a fine guitar/ And some dirty basketball." Except the chorus goes: "It's too late/ It's too late/ Nah, don't you know/ It's been too late." Not "Candle in the Wind", but hardly a fitting tribute. Hey, do those somber chords sound more like "Evaporated" or "Eddie Walker"?
Wuss-outs #4-#11: Hey, first single "Landed", a catchy sigh of post-breakup relief, takes off with a bitchin' piano riff that's just like "Philosophy" in a minor key! Folds followers will quibble over whether the Pure Prairie League pedal steel of "Give Judy My Notice" betters the ponderous run-through from 2003's Speed Graphic EP, except who cares, it's not even as good as "Carrying Cathy"! Hey, "Time" is almost the first verse of "Narcolepsy" plus a weirdly straight Weird Al. "You to Thank"? Not bad, and hey best piano breakdown since "Song for the Dumped"! Fatherly endearment "Gracie" would be a charming pretension-clearer on a better album. I don't remember anything about "Sentimental Guy" or "Prison Food" except hey one of them starts like "Emaline".
Lest anyone suspect otherwise, I'm completely certain Folds could still kick my ass like one angry piano-juggling dwarf. It takes less guts to sit here and criticize than to go up on stage every night and shill for a mediocre new album, right?
