​Basement’s Best: Kevin Morby’s ‘Still Life’ anything but still

By Stephen Anderson

Deceptively titled, Kevin Morby’s sophomore release is all moving and shaking. A onetime member of ramshackle indie collectives Woods and the Babies, Morby follows up on the sleepy promise of last year’s low-key solo release “Harlem River” with a song cycle of musings on his constant state of motion.

With a road-worn authority, Morby weaves not-too-tall tales of modern Americana through sparse, rootsy arrangements. Soberly examining death from arm’s length, he seems only a step ahead of the same dreadful specters that have haunted troubadours since Robert Johnson’s infamous crossroads transaction. Urgently bemoaning the violent death of the titled vagabond, Morby veers recklessly through “The Ballad of Arlo Jones” with adrenaline shouts that he knows won’t bring the man back to life.

Morby, however, does not necessarily fear the reaper’s beckoning. The album’s centerpiece, “Amen”, ambles with a hospice peace, rising and falling as if each savored breath could really be the last. Morby meditates stonedly on his anticipated deliverance in the form of a distanced monologue atop the song’s graceful buildup. The clouds part, and an angelic brass band coda carries the spirit up, up and through St. Peter’s gates.

In lesser hands, the material that makes up “Still Life” could have easily drifted by without note. The arrangements are sparse; the instrumentation rarely grows beyond rock and roll’s lowest common denominators of guitar, bass, organ and drums. Morby’s voice is void of flash, but much like his heroes Reed and Dylan, the singer relies on his obvious vocal lethargy to bring his lyrical vignettes to the forefront.

It is in the subtleties that the sublime is born. The manifestation of Morby’s craftsmanship is in every chord change, every unassuming guitar strum, and cloaks itself in his rough-and-tumble delivery. This hidden prowess can be heard best on the lust-for-life rave-up “Motors Runnin.” Recalling the two-chord rustle of the Velvet Underground’s “Heroin,” Morby and his band bounce effortlessly between the aptly motorik verses and hushed anti-choruses with a less-is-more approach that pays off in spades.

This minimalist mantra is the guiding force of the album. Morby, the death-shaker, the Econoline-riding zen master, rarely utters more than a handful of words in each breath, yet ably paints entire scenes of city-swallowing parades and ingloriously fatal alleyways, as well as the shifty, downtrodden characters that inhabit them. As he jangles you along through his travelogues, Morby wishes to impress upon you that, though it may slow, life is never truly still.

KNDS Suggests

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“This is How We Walk on the Moon” – José González
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“Magus Mountain”– The Budos Band
With the inspired injection of ‘70s stoner metal sensibilities into its already-sinister afrobeat sound, Daptone’s baddest deliver one of its heaviest tunes yet.

“She’s Leaving Home”– The Flaming Lips feat. Phantogram, Julianna Barwick and Spaceface
Undertaking the most melancholy moments of “Sgt. Pepper” for its all-star tribute, “With a Little Help from my Fwends,” Coyne and co. coolly transform the runaway’s anthem into a lilting, uptempo roller.

“Gunshowers” – BADBADNOTGOOD feat. Ghostface Killah and Elzhi

The alt-jazz phenoms up the ante in teaming with the Wu-Tang alumnus for the entirety of its forthcoming album, “Sour Soul.” Highlighting the tight, unadorned rhythms that have become BBNG’s calling card, this heady gem is sure to cement the group as major players in the modern hip-hop soundscape.