Forget what you'd imagine to be the virtues of being a young singer-songwriter. Energy, passion, generational zeitgeist and unbruised dreams of global conquest might all play into their favor, but youth is really the enemy of any singer-songwriter.This is because of the tendency of most burgeoning artists to -- purposefully or not -- crib from their influences or just rehash preceding musical forms. Most musicians start out by playing their favorite songs and given their limited experience, when they decide to pick up a pen, they inevitably use what they know. This is a patronizing idea, but backed up by nearly every debut album.The latest example is rising British star James Morrison. His new album, "Undiscovered," is an pleasant, mostly midtempo pop album in which a young man reveals his audacious ambitions only for astute listeners to hear familiar sentiments and pick out what page Morrison is now reading from the classic-rock hymnal. The record was released overseas last summer, but is only being released stateside now.
"I was born and raised to be my own man," Morrison sings on the opening lines of the disc's first song, "Under The Influence," but this is an empty boast. By his safe musical choices and reverence for his parents' favorites, one suspects that the 23-year-old Morrison is an only or oldest child. This is a guy, who for all the yearning and emotional anxiety that he fills is songs with, is trying to please someone. And while the James Blunt comparison has been thrown around a lot, "Undiscovered" bears out that Morrison more comfortably fits in the Joss Stone and Jonny Lang camp. Like that pair, he has talents as a singer and a songwriter but it often gets lost in the nostalgia.Morrison only adds to his problems when he makes the silly mistake of thanking his influences in the album's liner notes. The sentiment is a nice gesture but in the music industry's cutthroat business of who's cool, he basically hands his enemies a giant axe to cut him to pieces as he's kneeling in reverence (It doesn't help that he misspelled the name of the Spencer Davis Group). It invites comparisons and helps us identify where he got elements of his tunes.Top on that list of heroes is Stevie Wonder, and we can hear traces of his vocal mannerisms in Morrison's smoky, husky pipes. Under Wonder's tutelage, Morrison has a surprisingly soulful delivery -- but devoid of funkiness -- and it consistently finds each song's pocket. Because of this, his singing perfectly rides the melody and makes each track better than it would ordinarily be.As a result, sappy ditties like, "You Give Me Something" and "Wonderful World," are a little more endurable than what they really sound like, which is as if '90s one-hit wonders Jamiroquai slowed down and got all pretentious with strings and horns. During the soul music-inspired torch song, "The Pieces Don't Fit Anymore," Morrison's use of pre-choruses really builds the cut's intensity and distracts listeners from the fact that he's trying to break our hearts with verses filled with simple generalities.The use of musical and lyrical clichés continues, but the second half of the record picks up considerably. Morrison also begins to demonstrate a fondness for more contemporary sounds as well. "One Last Chance" creeps along like a typical Fiona Apple track. The melody inches forward as it's drawn forth by a quiet guitar fragment, stabbing bass pattern and tasteful piano accents. The cut never loses its sinister quality, although Morrison lets things get out of hand when the lightning-fast flourishes of strings expand into a full treatment and unnecessary gospel backup vocals blow the song out of proportion during the buildup to the outro. Similarly, "The Last Goodbye" takes its cues from the mini-symphonies on Beck's "Sea Change."
The disc's most powerful cut is "Call The Police." Starting with a Neil Young-ian acoustic guitar melody, it transforms into Radiohead circa "OK Computer" as rival electric guitars interrupt the easy flow and begin squawking at each other. Morrison gets caught up in the spirit a little. He seems invigorated, but can only spit out each line with controlled passion. He never treads into his voice's upper register, but he finally comes close to appearing like he's invested in what he's singing about.Morrison is more convincing on the record's troika of acoustic guitar-oriented songs. With fewer instruments to compete against or hide behind, Morrison's singing takes on a more emotive quality. He demonstrates his folkie credentials by hoarsely crooning like Cat Stevens doing a Richie Havens' impersonation on "Better Man." He sweetens this approach further on "The Letter" by adding slinky electric piano, singsong harmonica breaks and some drums. His vocals are again surprisingly potent during the chorus. This formula is finally perfected on "This Boy." The melody is the most infectious of the three and Morrison's singing is so rhythmic that he's able to keep the plot intact even when he once again allows the track to balloon into a bloated singalong.
As these frequent lapses suggest, Morrison is an artist who doesn't yet full appreciate his unique gifts or see the need to assert his independence. When he should build off his influences with something of his own, he takes the easier path by either borrowing from the masters or letting the song free fall into cliche. This keeps "Undiscovered" from fulfilling the mark made by those it seeks to honor or the buzz it has received by fans with vanilla tastes.Like youth itself, the record suggests a potential to improve. If he's clever, Morrison will be able to count on what he can only glean from experience to grow into his own and build on this. For More Info:
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