Nick Lowe Parties Hearty
On his first album of original material in 13 years, the artist once dubbed Basher reconnects with the kineticism of rock and roll.
Nick Lowe - Indoor Safari
A revealing detail pops up mere seconds into Indoor Safari, the snappy new album from singer and songwriter Nick Lowe. It’s on a song called “Went to a Party,” a wry and self-effacing number about mixing and mingling. In the song, Lowe is having a fine time, wearing his best suit, sipping Campari, cutting loose to one of his favorite oldies— “the one with the jazz flute.” Then the DJ puts on something a little more contemporary. Just like that, Nick’s ready to leave.
Lowe didn’t always have such an allergic reaction to modernity. Although he is an unalloyed disciple of pre-Beatles rock-and-roll— a devotee of Chuck Berry riffs and Everly Brothers harmonies— he spent much of the 1970s producing hip, cutting-edge music for the venerated punk label Stiff Records. Lowe was at the helm for sensational early albums by Elvis Costello, The Pretenders, and The Damned, earning the nickname Basher for his fast, loose, aggressive approach.
Sometime during the early 90s— around the time his hair started going white— Lowe realized it was time to act his age, refashioning himself as a gentleman crooner. Ever since 1994’s terrific The Impossible Bird, he has favored a laid-back, mostly-acoustic blend of easygoing country, amiable R&B, and old-fashioned lounge singing. Albums like The Convincer and At My Age are sad, funny, romantic, and irresistible in their casual charm— even if they betray nothing of the rambunctious energy on which Lowe built his reputation.
Indoor Safari is notable not only for being his first full-length collection of original material in 13 years— there was a sensational Christmas collection in the interim, plus a couple of quickie EPs—but for being his first album since the 90s to reconnect with the pulse of rock and roll. That’s largely down to Lowe’s choice of collaborators: He cut Indoor Safari with support from Los Straitjackets, a surf-rock outfit from Nashville that shares Lowe’s penchant for impish humor and retro rhythms.
From the flurry of drums that kicks of “Went to a Party,” it’s clear that this is a more animated Lowe than we’re heard in a long time— and yet its not exactly right to call this album a return to the frenzied energy of Rockpile, Lowe’s late, great band from the late 70s. Los Straitjackets favor clean, minimal guitar lines, drawing from rockabilly and 50s-era rock and roll, preferring texture and tunefulness over all-out assault. As Lowe scholar Stephen Thomas Erlewine writes, “Nick is still determined to deliver age-appropriate music, he's merely rediscovered the pleasures of rocking in rhythm.”
Having a full rhythm section behind him has an energizing effect on Lowe, who writes some of his hookiest, most propulsive material in ages. “Went to a Party” is an instant earworm, and the wistful chorus to “Jet Pac Boomerang”— about rushing back to a lover you know is no good— feels like a bear-hug embrace. The most raucous thing here is “Tokyo Bay,” which thrums with nervy energy and stinging rockabilly riffs.
Los Straitjackets are equally adept at offering unobtrusive support on the sadsack ballads, a form that continues to be Lowe’s wheelhouse. Both “Blue on Blue” and “Different Kind of Blue” bear their moods in their titles, while “Trombone”— one of a few songs Lowe has reworked from previously-released EPs— seeks solace in the most doleful-sounding instrument: “Trombone, come play your song/ Make it the one about good love gone wrong.”
Lowe has always been superbly gifted at selecting cover songs— almost all of them relative obscurities— that fit the broader themes and moods of his albums. On Indoor Safari, his curatorial skills yield a mixed bag. A joyous rendition of “Raincoat in the River,” once popularized by 1950s teen idol Ricky Nelson, is a sure-footed tribute to the flush of new romance. Less effective is “A Quiet Place,” a 60s relic from Garnet Mimms & the Enchanters; while Lowe is always convincing as nightclub crooner, the song’s dated vernacular pierces his aura of hipness. For once, the man who once called himself the Jesus of Cool just sounds stuck in the past.
That’s the odd paradox at the center of Indoor Safari: While Lowe is playing with greater vim and vigor than he has in years, working with the similarly anachronistic Los Straitjackets only accentuates his old-school proclivities. Lowe may sound giddy to be backed by a real rock and roll band, but he also doubles down on his cheerfully outmoded persona. He’s very much the guy who leaves the party as soon as anything modern starts to play, preferring instead to dabble in doo-wop or to quote from early Beatles records, as he does in “Jet Pac Boomerang.”
Lowe’s obviously at home in these vintage sounds, keeping his songwriting genial and plainspoken. He’s long been gifted at making exquisite craftsmanship sound easy, even frictionless— every melody is instantly hummable, every song is crisp and succinct, there’s never a word or line that seems superfluous. On Indoor Safari, Lowe sounds comfortable in his own skin, whether that means cracking self-deprecating jokes in “Went to the Party” or making heartache sound familiar and consoling in “Trombone.” These songs are all winsome, even if none rank among his sharpest— there’s nothing as interior as “The Beast in Me,” as nasty as “I Trained Her to Love Me,” or as self-loathing as “I’m a Mess.”
Where Indoor Safari shines is in its mastery of emotion, nowhere more evident than in its closing act. Following the skipping “Raincoat in the River,” Lowe offers “Lay It on Me Baby”— a carefree song about new love that saunters and swaggers with pure joy. Then just like that Lowe’s back to feeling miserable in “Don’t Be Nice to Me,” a curmudgeon’s anthem: “Yes, I need a ride to the station/ But I’d rather walk in the rain.” In Lowe’s hands, even this kind of sentiment sounds perfectly charming— making Indoor Safari a party where it’s worth it to linger.
My rating: 7.5 out of 10.
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