Album Review: James Vincent McMorrow- Post Tropical

Ayo what the fuck is this shit?

I don’t know if P4K contributor Molly Beauchemin doesn’t understand what R&B music is, or why she felt the need to mention it in her write up on the James Vincent McMorrow track “Cavalier.” But this is not R&B. Not in the Marvin Gaye sense of the word. Not in the Top 40 from the late 80s and early 90s sense of the word. Not in the “deconstructed” or “abstracted” sense of the word.

Just because a dude plays the Rhodes on the first track of this tepid, festering turd of a record doesn’t make him R&B.

What this is, however, is a bunch of a triflin’ ol’ bullshit. Some middle of the road, post-Bon Iver, post-James Blake, boring AF “indie” music for middle age white people that are sustaining members of Public Radio and learn about “interesting” new artists from The New Yorker or The New York Times Sunday Magazine.

In listening to McMorrow’s album, Post Tropical, I gotta wonder how dude was able to stay awake while writing and recording these songs, nahmean? Like, for real though B, I was ready to take a nap when listening to this. Or maybe go shopping at J. Crew, because that’s maybe where you’d hear this shit too. So lemme try on some super expensive shirts while dude croons in a falsetto overhead on the P.A.

Or like, while I drink my large Gingerbread Latte at a Starbucks. This is like “Starbucks ready” music, B.

This is just music that doesn’t go anywhere.

Let’s talk about that album name for a minute—Post Tropical, B? Are you for real? Like what comes after tropical? This? I hope not. And I’m all for theoretical genres, and styles of music that arrive after a particular one is over, but damn, there is nothing tropical at all about this record. The Internet tells me that “post tropical” is a former tropical cyclone. There is nothing on this album that is the musical equivalent of a cyclone. It’s more like a day where there is no breeze at all, and the air is stale as fuck.

This is McMorrow’s second LP—his first, from 2011, found him in a much more traditional singer/songwriter role, copping some post-Mumford, Josh Ritter-y folk vibes. But by mixing the aforementioned Justin Vernon (AKA Bon Iver) grandiose falsetto and multi-tracked vocals, with a little James Blake, and a dash of Active Child for good measure, McMorrow has made an album that is unfortunately derivative of all of those artists, and is pretty much incapable of being original.

Listening to Post Tropical to try to give an accurate, slightly less humorous review has been an absolute chore, just because this record is so boring and uninspiring. In the days since I have been attempting to listen to this without total bias, music website Consequence of Sound reviewed Post Tropical, giving it a generous 3.5 out of 5, and again, erroneously mentioning R&B numerous times in the accompanying piece on it.

Reviewer Sam Willett also makes the grave mistake of comparing the hook to the song "All Points," to the "catchiness" of How to Dress Well's "& it Was U."

So first of all, no.

Second of all, there is nothing all that catchy about "All Points." It, much like the rest of Post Tropical, goes nowhere. The hook to the song is based around some falsetto yelping on McMorrow's part, and trying to compare to an incredible, and real, R&B song like "& It Was U" is like trying to compare apples to a fruit that nobody has ever heard of before.

Also, on a personal note, I feel like I need to mention that Willett goes on to refer to McMorrow's first album as "beard rock." Again, no. Look at son's beard. 

Shit ain't growing in, B. Dude looks like Willem Dafoe with two sideburns that connect together.

Now look at my beard. 

Shit is just majestic as fuck. I don't even make music for a living and my beard IS beard rock.

McMorrow is a talented singer. I will give him that much. He knows he has a powerful voice with a high range, and he knows how to use it. And he's spent a lot of time on Post Tropical, ensuring that it's an album full of pomp and bombast, with moments that some may find "beautiful,” and moments that swell, attempting to emotionally manipulate you into believing this is a record you should like.

In full disclosure, the me of, maybe, like eight or ten years ago, may have REALLY liked this album. I was young then, though, and if you pointed me in the direction of a singer/songwriter wielding an acoustic guitar (bonus points if they were from Ireland!) I would have been all over it. But I'm older now, cynical, jaded, tired, clinically depressed, too trill for words, etc. Whatever. Look what I'm saying is that now I'm pushing 31 and I don't have time for this sheeeeeeit; music that is just "pretty" for the sake of being "pretty." James Vincent McMorrow is not saying anything with Post Tropical. If he IS saying something, I can't hear it over the excessive use of falsetto, and the emphasis of "big" musical arrangements.

So, if you like music that basically tells people that you don’t like music, peep Post Tropical—coming soon to the trailer for a romantic drama, to soundtrack a pivotal moment in an episode of "Grey's Anatomy," or to sooth you as you take a sip of your Starbucks coffee.

If you must, Post Tropical is out now via Vagrant Records.