for on   Days of the New Days of the New (II)

Label: Outpost/Interscope

Genre: Rock, Pop

File Under: Carry on my wayward son

Rating: 67

For 20-year-old Travis Meeks, the mastermind behind Days of the New, the opportunity to expand his musical vision beyond the straight-ahead heavy rock of his group's 1997 debut has allowed him to fulfill a grand ambition, but it has also inflated and exposed his shortcomings as never before. While the (also) eponymous debut album seemed to hone the heartland yowl of Alice in Chains to a spare, focused sound, this follow-up, clearly intended as a magnum opus, adds orchestral parts, sound effects, and synthesized interludes, to create a millennial-era amalgam of '70s prog-rock — kind of like Kansas if they'd grown up listening to Pearl Jam.

He started by firing the rest of the band, allowing this wayward son to carry on without having to convince them to approve his sonic experiments. Interludes like "Skeleton Key," although they don't really tie in with the other material, offer evidence that Meeks has interesting ideas up his sleeves. But the songs, by and large, meander. Other than "Enemy," the simple and effective single, and the dynamic "Bring Yourself," most of these numbers are arrangements in search of a song. In short, Meeks' conceptual reach far out-scales his compositional grasp.

In particular, his lyrics give poor old progressive rock another black eye. Self-important and heavy-handed, they are often humorless drivel: "God I don't know what to say/ Everything is in my way/ Get up and deal with the pain/ Drowning your mind in the way," he sings, in "Phobics of Tragedy." It's not as if his feelings aren't real; they are. Meeks just can't write well enough at this point to achieve what he intends.

On the positive side, his singing is strong, with just enough Vedderisms to counteract his tendency toward fire-and-brimstone wailing à la Denver's hopelessly over-the-top 16 Horsepower. And along this bumpy, overgrown path, there's plenty of musical color. Just not much restraint. — Bob Remstein  

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