I have loved Mike Doughty for years. Â It is a pure, true love of an artist who has remained underappreciated for far too long, his genius unrecognized by the masses. Â He broke out a bit with last year’s Golden Delicious, my least favorite of his solo albums and then quickly sunk below the radar once again. Â I think he may be the most comfortable there, without the pressure to conform to a sound that would be radio-friendly and accepted by the masses.
The gold standard by which I rate all of Doughty’s music is 2005′s Haughty Melodic, an album of hauntingly beautiful, sometimes irreverent songs that showcase his slightly monotone, smooth vocals and folky acoustic guitar. Â Coupled with the perfection of his lyrics, all of which are like a poem set to music, an image easy to see given his at times almost-spoken vocals, it was music bliss. Â I still cannot go long without closing my eyes to “Unsingable Name” and getting lost a bit.
That said, Doughty may have topped even himself this time. Â I was open-minded about his latest, Sad Man Happy Man. Â I was hoping to hear a return to Doughty at his best – folky, acoustic and earnest, but I expected a follow-up to the more daring Golden Delicious. Â I wouldn’t have been surprised to hear some of his trademark lo-fi synth stylings that were demonstrated on Rockity Roll. Â I was delighted to hear him return to what is, arguably, his best sound. Â Most suited to his voice, lyrics and guitar playing, the acoustic, soulful, folky kind of alternative “small rock” he is known and loved for.
From the opening track, “Nectarine (Part Two),” I was hooked. Â He sounds like a little boy with a broken heart as he sings, “want to see you, want to hurt you so bad and want to love you senselessly.” Â It’s like reading a personal love note to someone lost but not forgotten.
The first single, “(You Should Be) Doubly (Gratified),” doesn’t disappoint, catchy, fun and slightly cynical. Â Doughty’s search for a higher power, a thread running through his albums, is also strongly present, some tracks at times sounding almost like old spirituals, with a hint of cynicism mixed with a hopeful lilt that is so endearing, I wanted to give him a hug. Â Uncharacteristic is the near scream on “Lord Lord Help Me Just to Rock Rock On,” but it is hardly unwelcome. Â The pain of his past demons have been haunting all of Doughty’s music as long as he’s been making it, so a glimpse of anger feels right, and therapeutic.
Doughty closes the album with a cover of the brilliant Daniel Johnston’s “Casper the Friendly Ghost,” delivered without irony and with a smoothness that slips over your skin like butter.
Thank you, Mike, for making an album I never want to stop listening to again.
