A.C. Newman
Get Guilty
Matador
By Mike Randall
Metaphorically speaking, Allan Carl Newman will never reinvent the wheel. But if you ever need someone to construct a trusty old wheel, there might not be a better person for the job. Newman, of course, doesn’t work for Goodyear - he’s been delivering spot-on records for years as leader of Superconductor, Zumpano and most notably, New Pornographers. Now, with the release of his second solo album under the moniker A.C. Newman, he maintains his position as one of the most consistent acts on the indie circuit today.
A meticulous craftsman that’s becoming more and more prolific, Newman knows how to piece together a song that’s both catchy and intelligent. On Get Guilty, all of the elements of a great indie-pop record are present: interesting arrangements, a plethora of hooks, varying instrumentation, production without being overbearing, excellent rhythmic pacing. Of course, as the indie world’s Tom Robbins, Newman really shines with his creative smarts, telling stories that either don’t make any sense yet remain compelling or make complete sense in some roundabout manner.
“There Are Maybe Ten Or Twelve” is the standout example, a triumphant cohesion of guitars, keyboards and percussion. “There are maybe ten or twelve things I could teach you/After that you’re on your own…Make of that what you will,” Newman sings. Instantly captivating, it’s a rare direct passage from Newman that trails with a moment of openness and ambiguity. His indecipherable prose returns during “Like A Hitman, Live A Driver,” a song packed with the crunchy acoustic guitar texture of a New Porno song, but with a more stripped down, organic feel, which is welcome in his solo records.
As has always been the case with Newman, it’s about the final song, not what it takes to get there. He jumps around without ever losing focus, always staying tight. “The Heartbreak Rides” is the quirky yet mature song The Shins wish they could still write, while Newman channels his inner Britt Daniel during the snarling rock of “Prophets.” Those in need of their fill of Newman’s trademark power-pop chorus hooks will take solace in the spiraling keyboard and guitar of “The Place At 4 AM” or the waltzing rhythm of “The Changeling (Get Guilty),” while the rollicking “The Collected Works” has enough weird sonic overtones to keep stubborn Wilco fans intrigued. Still, the gentle, tender pop of “Young Atlantis” might be his most alluring attempt, as he’s surrounded by gorgeous violin and cascading vocal harmonies.
Newman has been such an admired songwriter for so long because he’s able to flawlessly bridge classic pop influences with modern soundscaping, something every band seems to be trying to do these days. Where others fall short and Newman thrives is that he knows where to find the true heart of the song, regardless of its persuasion. Which is exactly how he can end up with a track like “All Of My Days And All Of My Days Off,” a song that sounds like a combination of Simon & Garfunkel and Blitzen Trapper, and an album like Get Guilty. Newman might not have written the indie patent, but he definitely has the blueprint.
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