Damien Rice’s new album proves interesting, explosive
Blunt lyrics fill the tracks of ‘9’ to break the mold of contemporary musicians over the past few years
By Jess Novak, staff writer
Posted on November 16, 2006

In a culture dominated by computer-generated techno beats and superficial lyrics, Damien Rice’s new album, 9, is a refreshing deviation from the norm.

With his completely unpretentious guitar and piano melodies accompanied by what are arguably the most blunt lyrics of any contemporary artist, his sweeping crescendos and passionate cries are worth a listen.

Though more explosive than his debut album of 2003, O, Rice’s new CD is equally interesting and emotional. The album tends to deliver more ripping guitars and much harder climaxes than his debut, but Rice works his way through the grunge-like experimental song “Me, My Yoke, and I” with conviction, sucking in the listener effortlessly.

However, he does manage to return triumphantly to his subtle style best in “Accidental Babies,” where a soft and vulnerable voice floats over the piano melody like a ghost singing poetic lyrics like, “we use cushions to cover/happy glands/in the mild issue of our disgrace/Our minds pressed and guarded/while our flesh disregarded/the lack of space/for the light-hearted/in the boom/that beats our drum.”

Rice also welcomes the return of Lisa Hannigan’s vocals throughout a considerable amount of the album, perhaps most notably on the tracks “Sleep Don’t Weep” and “9 Crimes.” Also present on the album is cellist Vyvienne Long, who managed to add to the rich and socially deviant sound of Rice as well.

Other tracks to listen for include the bitter and blatant “Rootless Tree,” where the explicit lyrics sticker that is stamped onto the album cover is rightfully earned. The passionate repetition and powerful growth of the song leave the listener convinced of Rice’s unbridled emotion.

“Coconut Skins” is another highlight with an up-tempo guitar and lyrics about chimneys, God relieving people of doubt and a warning to value youth as he sings, “you can wait for ages/and watch your compost turn to coal/but time is contagious/everybody’s getting old.”

Though Rice’s music has been featured in movies and television (including shows like “Lost,” “Alias,” “House” and “The O.C.”), the true beauty of the music is in its commercial opposition.

With unusual CD art, a simple and curious album, and music only comparable to some of the most respected modern musicians, Rice manages to break nearly every accepted musical mold and does it well. His diversity of sound and style is incredible and his talents as a singer and songwriter shine undeniably through every simple guitar riff and painful cry of a lyric.

Even U2’s Bono noticed Rice’s talent.

“What you’re about to hear and see is like being at a Bob Dylan gig in the early ’60s or a Cat Stevens gig in the early ’70s or James Taylor, or something extraordinary,” he once said as he introduced Rice. “Damien Rice is able to still and distill the storms into quiet reflection. He’s really a remarkable talent, I can’t quite believe that he’s here.” That compliment was spoken by none other than Bono himself at a concert in New York, only further proving Rice’s credibility throughout the industry.

But don’t take Bono’s word for it; Rice is worth experiencing firsthand.