Mat Kearney – City of Black & White

I can remember loving Counting Crows’ debut, August and Everything After. In addition to great songs, like “Round Here,” “Mr. Jones,” and “Rain King,” this Bay Area band was produced by T-Bone Burnett, who could do no wrong in my book. And while remembering these songs gives me a tinge of nostalgic bliss, I can no longer call myself a Counting Crows fan. As the group gained popularity, Adam Duritz’s faux dreadlocks began to really get on my nerves. But more than that, it was the whine in his voice. Every song seemed as though he was on the verge of tears. When my children were young, they sounded a lot like Duritz – only without the fine lyrics and melodies, of course. I hated to hear them whine and moan, so why would I willfully put on a CD to hear a Rasta hair club for men member doing the same?

Mat Kearney seems like a well-meaning gent. His songs are filled with hopeful devotion and sincerity. But he sings them like a child that just lost his toy. Not just some songs; every song. The music on City of Black & White is interchangeable with Keane, Snow Patrol, and Coldplay – before Brian Eno lent them a hand. There are plenty of soaring melodies and heartfelt vocals, but few lyrical lines that stick to your ribs. For example, in a song about a girl, “Annie,” Kearney drops in the phrase, “Three days in the grave.” What does that have to do with anything? Granted, the man is a Christian. But this line, which presumably refers to Jesus, doesn’t fit the work at all.

Yet when Kearney sings more straightforwardly, as with the title cut, he doesn’t paint believably compelling pictures. “’Cause I don’t want to wait until tomorrow/ Tell you how I’ll feel the rest of my life.” I don’t know how I’m going to feel tomorrow afternoon, let alone the rest of my life. Therefore, I’d prefer to keep my cards close to my vest. Furthermore, whenever a songwriter promises his girl the moon, a red flag goes up. I’m no real estate expert, but the last time I checked, no single earthling owned the moon.

On “All I Have”, Kearney repetitiously sings, “All I have, all I have, well you know it’s yours,” as though he’s a greeting card that cannot, for his very life, create a memorable rhyme. Sincerity goes a long way in real life, especially when it comes to doing business. But simplistic sincerity in pop music begins to fade away into the background, and quick.

Kearney’s black and white city is a lot like a bad black and white movie from the ’40s. At first glance, you’re hoping it’s something special, like It’s a Wonderful Life. But It’s a Wonderful Life is wonderful because Jimmy Stewart was arguably the greatest actor of our time and because director Frank Capra knew how to tug at your heart like a drowning man holding onto a lifeline. It wasn’t the black and white part that made Capra’s classic a holiday favorite; it was the undeniably great filmmaking, instead. Kearney sings the praises of loved ones in his life, the way George Bailey realized what was truly important in life by film’s end. But Kearney also skips the suspense and drama that make It’s a Wonderful Life essential viewing. Nope, I’m not a fan of Kearney, even though he has a far more natural haircut than Adam Duritz.

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Tagged as: Nashville, Rock

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