If nothing else, Monsters of Folk has clarified, or at least temporally rearranged, my perceptions about three quite talented vocalists. In the same way that The Traveling Wilburys, Vol. 1 opened the door for direct comparisons between icons Tom Petty, Bob Dylan and George Harrison (Roy Orbison comes away as the undisputed champ), this indie folk conglomeration inevitably becomes as much about competition as collaboration. They seem to be having a good time, but it's impossible not to think about whose songs work the best.
First and foremost, Monsters of Folk further cements M.Ward's status as an integral part of the 21st century songwriting landscape. "Whole Lotta Losin'" and its bouncy keyboard-fuzzy guitar combo are easily the most first single-worthy endeavor, "Goodway" is a slightly-off-the-wall, mid-tempo joy, while a gorgeous acoustic melody backs the haunting "The Sandman, the Brakeman and Me" ("Guess I'll lay my head against my elbow in the window/Let my wheels go, let my wheels go").
Conor Oberst, the occasionally poignant, occasionally grating lyricist of Bright Eyes (here also collaborating with producer Mike Mogis), definitely makes his case for relevance throughout Monsters of Folk. The Oberst-heavy "Temezcal" is not only the best song on the album, it also has the best line: "Love we made at gunpoint wasn't love at all." "Ahead of the Curve" is another beautifully constructed sketch, which never treads into the sad sap territory that sometimes drags down his constructions.
Coming off the mediocre My Morning Jacket album Evil Urges, Jim James should have been set to impress. However, surrounded by so much talent, he appears relatively second-rate. Every eye-roller belongs to him, including: "How many licks does it take to get/Taste and see/How many licks does it take to get to the center where there's something sweet" and "If you like what you say/When you open your face/Then you got the right feeling/You're in the right place" Etc. Etc. I mean, c'mon buddy. Where's your A-game?So, if you're keeping score: M. Ward up, Conor Oberst up, Jim James down. What does this mean for the album as a whole? Quite simply, it works when James stays off center stage (with the exception of opener "Dear God"); I'm thinking a Ward-Oberst He & Him duo would be an endlessly compelling possibility. The entire album, which is light on intra-song interactions beyond backing vocals, ends up as merely a hit-and-miss affair. Too bad, because this could have been one for the ages.
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