Jon Langford's love of traditional American music offsets his disgust with American capitalism and consumerism. Even as he continues to sharpen his chops on country and western, and U.S. folk and folk art, his disdain for particular political and social developments has only intensified and become more intractable. Rather than diluting his music, his lefty hostility has thus far mirrored the subversiveness of the musical forms he practiced, infusing albums like 2003's The Mayors of the Moon and the following year's All the Fame of Lofty Deeds with a fiery dissatisfaction and a feisty humor. All rock legends should age so gracefully.
That spiritedness is all but absent on Gold Brick, a concept album of sorts about the gold and slave trades that exchanges his C&W; fixation for sea shanties and bland rock. Too many of these songs sound like obligatory run-throughs. Jettisoning the reconstructed C&W; that made Lofty Deeds such a gem, Langford has gathered a decent backing band. Only occasionally do they hint at the rabble they're capable of rousing: Pat Brennan's piano elegantly laces these songs together, and Jean Cook's violin on "Tall Ships" speaks more loudly and clearly about these matters than Langford's lyrics.
Langford hasn't given them his best batch of songs, though. "Buy It Now" lazily tackles even lazier consumerism, but its slothful antigroove can't sell the message. "Gorilla & the Maiden" starts strong but soon loses its way as Langford muddles the melody, and "Anything Can Happen" proves the adage that there's nothing as boring as listening to someone else describe their dreams. The biggest disappointment is centerpiece "Salty Dog", a dead-in-the-water sea dirge that's just embarrassing. Langford flails as he tries to hit the high notes; worse, he never sounds like he's even in character.
Gold Brick has some luster, hinting in its best moments at the album that might have been. Langford and his band put some vigor into the reggae-flavored "Dreams of Leaving" and the reminiscing "Invisible Man", almost excusing its grafted chorus. He finally gets some real fire in his voice on the closer, "Lost in America", which recaps American history as global farce: a confused Columbus landing on what he thinks is the West Indies, the Transcontinental Railway pulling the Great Depression behind it. But this moment, which comes too late, reveals the essential imbalance that sinks Gold Brick: Langford is navigating by politics, not by music. He has something to say, but for once in his storied career, that seems to take priority over how to say it. As a result, both the music and the message suffer.
