Rock CriDick: I and Love and You

The longer a band's run lasts, the easier it becomes for people to find faults with their approach.  The Avett Brothers began as a grungy folk band that, as a result of their instrumentation, veered inevitably off in the direction of bluegrass.  Song contents often dealing with lost love and the follies of youth, delivered with precociousness, but with a wisdom not expected from twenty-somethings.

On I and Love and You, we find a different approach; the banjo is now a piano, love lost has been traded in for eternal love discovered, loose meditations on life have now been replaced with concrete observations about the nature of existence in the modern world.  It's as if the boys have been kicked out of the house, and rather than continuing with a reliance on porous relationships and transient principles, the have opted for true bonds and steadfast principles.


As a result, the album remains straightforward, crisp, and simple throughout.  Less in the sense of an unwillingness to experiment, and more in line with a clear sense of vision and the subsequent execution of that vision.  But all that was previously loved about the Avett Brothers remains; strong harmonies, vocal counterpoints, direct, yet poignant lyrics, and an unquestionable confidence in their calling.

But there are still surprises.  For once the listener thinks the album has fallen into a discernible pattern, pendulating from piano-driven balladry to cowboy crooning, they hit you with a pop wallop correlating the percussion pulse of a kick drum with the fervid and often frenetic experience of pursuing of new love.  And this seems to almost become a measure of reassurance.  Sure, the boys have figured a few things out, but that doesn't mean fun is now off limits.  And the cleverly crafted bubblegum doesn't stop there as it plays an integral role throughout the second half of the album, culminating with the hands down best pop song of the year (and beyond) in Slight Figure of Speech. 

Within this we find the true pattern of the album, as well as its strength: a wide range of style, much moreso than in the Avett's previous efforts, combined with observant and introspective lyrics.  Whether it is the internal struggle to avoid the pitfalls of growing old and greedy (I'll With Want), the quest to regain tangible, immediate emotion (Tin Man), or a willingness to remain persistent and open rather than complacent and lazy (Incomplete and Insecure).  And so while the subject matter, being consistently thoughtful, appears weightier than usual, the Avett Brothers are still able to maintain a sense of youthful energy in lieu of what hangs over their heads, allowing them to do such things as bursting into a bluegrass breakdown even after spouting an honest lament:

Last night I dreamt the whole night long
I woke with a head full of songs
I spent the whole day
I wrote 'em down, but its a shame
Tonight I'll burn the lyrics,
'Cause every chorus was your name

Many critics and long time fans have described the album as preachy, over-produced, and lacking in urgency. But all of this misses the goal of the album.  The goal of a band in transition to adulthood, searching for a way around becoming formulaic, but at the same time wanting to remain resolute in their passions and beliefs.  And if anything, considering how thoughtful the content of the album is, this could easily be considered their most urgent effort to date.  For if needing to grow up is a cliche, then the resistance to this inevitability is even more passe.  So why not grow up on one's own terms.  Seems to be working out all right for the Avett Brothers.