Just Because: Some Devil

The first in a line of essays that stray out of the present to muse on something worth musing over.
~
Chances are if you’re not the part of the legion of hard-core fans that trade live shows and own every official release of the Dave Matthews Band, than you’re in one of two other groups: You either “respect DMB’s musicianship” or wonder what the big deal is and go back to blasting TV On the Radio. Matthews has struggled with lukewarm critics falling into the second and third categories for the bulk of his career. Problems include weak songwriting too reliant on sexual innuendo, cryptic subject matter and novel vocal arrangements always weighed heavy by complex musicianship. It remains unknown whether Some Devil, Dave Matthew’s first official solo release, deliberately addresses these criticisms, but the critical elite get their due.

Some Devil sounds surprisingly different from previous Matthews efforts. Matthews flanks himself with jam-band icon Trey Anastasio and underground guitar-god Tim Reynold’s, along with Tony Hall (bass) and Brady Blade (drums) from Emmy Lou Harris’s backing band. Matthews refrains from jams and complex arrangements, instead seasoning the music with guests Dirty Dozen Brass Band, Seattle Music Group and the Total Experience Gospel Choir. Long-time collaborator Stephen Harris is on the console, lending Dave and his friends a sparkling blue’s rock sound sorely lacking on the flatter Busted Stuff.

Some Devil also marks the second release in what seems to be Matthews’ “dark” period, first initiated on Busted. The familiar themes of regret, redemption, mortality and insanity are in order. Matthews, on album opener “Dodo”, ironically hints that the extinct bird should have known better: “This little game/where nothing is sure of/why would you play by the rules?” he inquires, no doubt scolding Humanity instead.

But what makes Some Devil worthwhile are its bizarre double ironies. The record arrives in Matthews post-Everyday era; where his audience has never been so generic, his long-time fans so dissatisfied and his critics so jaded. So Matthews seemingly casts himself as the Devil speaking to Christ in the desert on “Save Me”.

Meanwhile, the mini-epic “Too High” features him reassuring a friend in a state of torturous waiting. But Dave briefly mocks his muse, singing, “The sand is empty in the hourglass/I’ll be there/to turn it over and over in your head/so you keep your hope/you get your day.” On “Trouble”, Dave portrays himself as bowed, ashamed and pious, but he’s simply begging to be left alone. It would seem that Matthews, ever the reluctant and mysterious celebrity, is finally telling his fan base and critics alike, “Yeah, I fucked up. Here’s what you want. Now get off my ass.”

But the complexities don’t end there. Most of the other songs speak to a bitter nostalgia that occasionally unwinds into a euphoric insanity, as on “Oh”. Matthews has admitted in interviews that the lyrics of the romantic ode are meant to be those of an old man joyfully singing to the ghost of his deceased wife. Similarly blissful tunes such as “Up and Away” and “So Damn Lucky” are ultimately engulfed by all the darkness, making Some Devil disturbingly alluring.

Luckily, all of this controversy helps Matthews hit pay dirt. For years he has struggled against Rock’s critical elite to prove himself as a relevant songwriter. Some Devil shirks the musical complexities of his work in the 90’s in favor of emphatic musings and heartbreaking narratives. With reeled in musicianship and an emphasis on songwriting, there’s no excuse for critics not believing what the fans have believed all along: Dave Matthews has arrived.