Adam Green is an artist known for quirky and eccentric lyrics that paint life as humorous slapdash. He is perhaps more famous as one half of the Moldy Peaches, but as a solo artist he continues to wave his freak flag proudly. On his sixth solo album, "Minor Love," Green remains as kooky as ever, but this time he is singing the blues. As Green's break−up album, "Minor Love" feels like a private journal entry about a dark time and the aftermath that leaves him alone with his thoughts and guitar.
As the Moldy Peaches, Green and bandmate Kimya Dawson had a unique singing style that they dubbed anti−folk. Their production values were lo−fi, and their lyrics were endearing. At the beginning of his career as a solo artist, Green's guitar playing and deep lyricism were beefed up with poppy production. He returns to his roots on this album, leaving behind soaring strings in favor of contemplative organs and the subtle bump of a bass guitar.
Green sounds as aloof and bored as ever, but this time, it is not the result of youthful apathy. The trials and tribulations of life have seemingly caught up to Green. His voice is more grizzled and aged, and love has left him ravaged. He is despondent, and no matter how upbeat the backing music might be, Green remains inconsolable.
Green's laid−back singing style makes the album sound improvised rather than produced. The addition of dissonance to the vocals further adds to Green's indifferent attitude; he doesn't care enough to be in key with the song.
The entire album sounds like it was recorded in a musty hotel where drunks and lost lovers go to drown their sorrows. It relies heavily on acoustic guitar and Green's beautiful, deep voice. A drummer and bassist occasionally crop up, but for the most part, Green is alone. Some tracks feature a drum machine, which further adds to the feeling of solitary confinement. The mysterious female figure — only referred to as "she" or "you" — has left Green wary of love as well as women.
On "Don't Call Me Uncle," Green asks only that she "play [him] like an orchestra that makes a boy your man." Green rejoices in his sadness as opposed to simply being depressed. He is certainly sad about his lost love, but joy sneakily peeks through the fog of sadness every once in a while.
"Oh Shucks" is a perfect example of his unique form of sad joy. Backed by video−game sound effects and a blaring upbeat riff, Green politely refers to his former love as a "creature" and a "dyke."
"I'm staring down at my whiskey now, oh shucks/ Crying in the grass and making bad sense," Green sings nonchalantly at the beginning of the track. On "Stadium Soul," Green proudly announces that he "[feels] lovely/ To live in a bachelor pad," but it remains that it is not his "choice to feel bad."
"Goblin" is the most buoyant track on the album, infused with African melodies and a danceable rhythm. On this track, the listener gets a tiny glimpse into the former relationship: "Then she was cursing at me/ And pointing at her witch's cauldron/ Grabbed me/ She got in my face/ And then she punched me just like a goblin."
One of the problems with the album is also its greatest asset: the lyrics. Green uses quirky, durable imagery that becomes clearer as the listener parses the meaning. The lyrics hold the potential for multiple interpretations rather than broadcasting an obvious message. However, the lyrics can sometimes be clunky in an attempt to be witty. Some are difficult to digest and comprehend, and often it is difficult to understand to whom or what Green is referring.
In the end, the only person who can truly know what the lyrics mean is Green — or maybe he doesn't even understand completely. Nevertheless, Green makes music that is neither downbeat nor uplifting. It is music for a listener who doesn't know how to feel.
