Despite its scintillating title John Mellencamp's new LP "Life, Death, Love and Freedom" is one of the quietest records of his career, but its lyrical depth, coupled with rich, intimate simplicity, makes it a formidable one. This is essentially folk music with some exceptions, yet these songs very much pulsate with electricity and character.
Vocals and guitar generally take the forefront, with Mellencamp's sentiments hanging loose in the balance. It's dark, even cryptic, but it's also bold and exciting, especially from a talented songwriter who could simply churn out a dozen radio-friendly southern rockers if he wanted to. Evoking similar themes as heard on last year's warmly received "Freedom Road," Mellencamp sounds as inspired as ever in his comments concerning the state our country is in. He speaks to those frustrated about its current state of affairs and the need for change, yet never lets negativity win.
Many of the songs have already found public exposure such as "Jena," the controversy-arousing response to the by-now infamous controversy that occurred last year in Jena, Louisiana, as well as "If I Die Sudden," a resigned, dignified approach to mortality he has introduced into concert setlists. Frenetic, bouncy lead single "My Sweet Love" injects the otherwise downtrodden album with its near-syrupy sentiments.
"Mean," an understated, nearly spoken-word protest of another's jaded outlook on life, finds Mellencamp wise and observant, but never too cynical to see the silver lining or lose a sense of innocence.
"I'm not following your frame of mind/Complaining about this life all the time/Surely something good here as the world spins by/Could you please stop being so mean?"
"Without a Shot," an astoundingly eloquent criticism of the Iraq War, finds Mellencamp wading through the rubble of our nation and struggling to make sense of it all, marking what is definitely one of his finest moments as a songwriter.
"So we open up our eyes at midnight/See the setting of the sun/Foundation is crumbling/The inner structure's gone/Used up by corruption/And the passage of time/We hope we've got some fight left/'Cause our children, our children are dying."
Further standouts like "Troubled Land" ("I got a pain in my side/But I keep traveling on") and "Don't Need This Body" ("Well all my friends are sick or dying/And I'm here all by myself/All I got left is a head full of memories/And a thought of my upcoming death") shed further light on the current state of quiet desperation working its way into the tiniest nooks and crevices of our nation. Something has got to give, and Mellencamp's passion and fury combine to produce a vivid snapshot of America in the 2000s.
He concludes the album with "For the Children," a gentle reassurance to youth growing up in a confusing time ("I hope you can be a child of life/With big dreams for everyone/And know that dying's as natural as birth/And our troubles here, they don't last long"), and "A Brand New Song," an ode to reinvigorating livelihood and looking to a brighter future.
It may not have brash, in-your-face entertainment value or artistic pretensions (Starbucks label affiliation aside - give the guy a break, he needs a way to get his music out there in this unpredictable, adversarial market), but "Life, Death, Love and Freedom" is pure, wall-to-wall beauty and truth. If all singer/songwriters could be as soul-searching and thoughtful as Mellencamp proves himself to be on this album, this world would be a richer, more rewarding place to live and breathe. Sure, there are no easy-as-Coca Cola concert singalongs like "Jack and Diane" or "Small Town" here to guzzle down, but Mellencamp, like most talented artists, has evolved.
For all of those living in fear, frustration and heartache in today's world, he reaches out through his words and music. All he asks now is that you might pay him a listen.