The New Classics #32: Sea Change, Beck

Title: Sea Change
Artist: Beck
Year: 2002
Label: Geffen

Every decade needs a handful of great breakup albums. It's an old and cruel cliche, but heartache can certainly lead to some spectacular music. In the finest tradition of Blood On The Tracks, Shoot Out The Lights and The Boatman's Call (just to name a few), 2002's Sea Change is certainly the class of breakup music from the 2000s. However, the fact that it came from Beck Hansen, the musical maverick behind the anthemic "Loser" and classic Odelay album is somewhat surprising. Up until 2002, Beck was seen as the hippest of hip artists, with his ironic lyrics, playful sense of musical genres and forward-thinking experimentation with hip-hop. A heavily orchestrated, emotionally devastated album of lonely love songs was the last thing anything expected. Yet, that's just what Sea Change ended up being.

The album's supposed inspiration is quite straightforward. After ending a decade-long relationship with the designer Leigh Limon, Beck wrote most of the songs that would become Sea Change in the week following the split. Like many, many songwriters before him, Beck channeled his pain and emotions into songs. Unlike most of those others, however, the resulting songs are staggering in their simplicity, clarity and raw power. Especially coming from a man who once turned "I'm a loser, baby, so why don't you kill me" into a generation-defining mantra, the solemn beauty of "Guess I'm Doin' Fine" is quite shocking. Working with longtime Radiohead producer Nigel Godrich, Beck turned Sea Change into something far removed from his eclectic back catalog. Reminiscent of Neil Young's Harvest and Nick Drake's Pink Moon, it's an album not afraid to wear its vulnerable heart on its sleeve.

It's easy to hear Sea Change as self-indulgent. On "Lonesome Tears," with its sawing string section and chorus of "how could this love, never turning, never turn its eye on me," Beck certainly isn't subtle or stoic about his anguish. However, the earnestness in his expression, from his hushed voice to the straightforward lyrics, becomes endearing and moving quite quickly. Exploring his latent country sensibilities more than ever before, "The Golden Age" and "End Of The Day" sound like the belong in Nashville, being played by a teary-eyed balladeer from Alabama. Like Neil Young before him, Beck uses the lonely sound of the slide guitar to express emotional pain. Similarly, "Lost Cause" and "It's All In Your Mind" are fantastic tunes in the tradition of acoustic indie rock. That gentle, sighing guitar is at the heart of all of Sea Change's tracks, given just enough support with strings, minimal drums and the occasional touch of piano.

Beck approaches his heartbreak from all angles. "Paper Tiger" sounds distant and removed, while the bleak "Round The Bend" is probably the most raw, with its cavernous echo effects and fatalistic lyric tone, referencing the "bullet from an empty gun" and people "making their daggers sharper." In this sense, Sea Change does fit within the established Beck musical style, skipping about from one thing to another to create a diverse and varied whole. However, the sheer honesty within the album is unprecedented from Beck. Since this album's release, he's gone on to reveal even more facets to his personality, but he's still never recorded something this harrowing or straightforward. Beck has established himself as a great artist, but its fascinating to see what happens when he focuses his powers on the breakup song, that old standby of lovelorn teenage guitarists and populist balladeers. By avoiding the most obvious traps, Sea Change eclipses so many of its breakup album peers, creating a lasting work of honest expression. After so many albums of artistic role-playing, Beck finally revealed his most compelling character: himself.

Next up on The New Classics: Silent Shout, The Knife