It’s “All About the Music” for Louisville, KY Quintet
by Andrew Clayman
Published in The Knoxville Voice, November 2006
There are few undertakings in rock any riskier than the “transitional” album. By boldly exploring new musical territory, many bands only wind up exposing their own limitations and egotism. In the rarest of instances, however, a roll of the dice becomes a revelation, and a band like My Morning Jacket can go from noteworthy to important in one fell swoop.
In this case, the swoop was a CD called Z— the ridiculously well received psychedelic-country space-jam that shot the humble gents of My Morning Jacket into Wilco and Radiohead’s “smart rock” hierarchy in 2005. No one would have blamed them for perching on that pedestal for a while, but that’s simply not how this band operates.
“Everything about being in a band is a cycle,” explains guitarist Carl Broemel, who joined the MMJ fold shortly before the recording of Z, the group’s fourth album. Broemel is speaking from his home in Nashville, just days before kicking off another big fall tour with bandmates Patrick Hallahan (drums), Two-Tone Tommy (bass), Bo Koster (keyboards), and Jim James (vocals/guitar/reverb). “We’re playing bigger venues here in the States, which is great and really gratifying. But at the same time, we’ve gone over to Scotland and played for 150 people on the tiniest stage imaginable. And we are into doing that, but it also keeps us humble.”
Modesty has always been at the core of the My Morning Jacket code of ethics. Since starting the band in Louisville, KY in the late 90’s, frontman Jim James has preached a simple philosophy of substance over style. Even in the wake of critical praise for their first three cavernous, country-rock records (1999’s Tennessee Fire, 2001’s At Dawn, and 2003’s It Still Moves), the Jackets maintained a remarkably low profile and diligently sidestepped the gimmicky side of the business. While their indie contemporaries were striving for ironic, stylized dishevelment, James and his bandmates were just effortlessly unkempt— following in the tradition of their own rock heroes like The Band and Neil Young.
“It’s a cool thing about seeing an act like Neil Young and Crazy Horse,” Broemel says. “When they’re up there on the stage, they look like they could just as easily be the guys at a garage working on your motor oil. I think we all strive for that—to be as approachable as possible. People get barraged with so much other stuff that’s not important. We want it to be all about the music.”
As luck would have it, My Morning Jacket’s complete disinterest in trendiness has played a major role in their mass appeal. Their epic live shows, as captured on the brand new two-disc set Okonokos, are attended by a rainbow coalition of rock fans— from hipsters to hippies to prog geeks— all of whom have been collectively rechristened, for better or worse, “Jacketheads.” These devotees have been drawn in not only by the eclectic electronics of Z, but by the spirited, all-inclusive energy that has been a staple of My Morning Jacket concerts since the beginning.
“We want to make the live show as bombastic and crazy as we possibly can,” Broemel says. “And also as diverse as we possibly can. On the records, we probably put more of a magnifying glass on what we’re doing. But playing live, there is a little more freedom.”
Last year, at a free show in Knoxville’s Market Square, James actually requested that the stage lights be shut off completely, turning he and his cohorts into faceless, shadowy figures after sundown. Spectators were lucky to see much more than some long hair flying in the breeze, but after a blazing cover of Dylan’s “Tonight I’ll Be Staying Here with You,” the crowd enthusiasm was off the charts. Case in point, My Morning Jacket is a rock band first-- rocks stars reluctantly.
Even after a year in which he and his bandmates headlined Bonnaroo and shared stages with Pearl Jam and the Boston Pops, Carl Broemel still feels like the same guy he’s always been.
“I feel very anonymous,” he says with a chuckle. Since replacing founding member Johnny Quaid on the guitar in 2004, Broemel hasn’t had much time to sit back and enjoy his newfound success. As it turns out, learning a back catalog of songs and indoctrinating yourself with new colleagues can be a bit of a challenge.
“It’s a long process,” he admits. “But about twelve shows in, (fellow newcomer) Bo (Koster) and I played with the band at the Astoria in London, which was pretty exciting. It was a big moment that we had all been working toward as a group, and once we made it past that point, I think we felt like, ok, we’re cool now. We can conquer anything from here on out.”
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