Beck – Ride Lonesome

Without lending too much credence to the natural order of things, it seems only fitting that Beck Hansen would release three acoustic-leaning albums at 12-year intervals. Maybe the Los Angeles side of me is making me think such a move is intentional, given his spiritual connection to his art. Regardless, there has been plenty of distance between each to assume it’s the right time, as the fifty-something feels deeply embedded in replicating the country-folk he greatly reveres.

Of course, it’s a little more complicated than that. After nearly fifteen years of marriage and a subsequent divorce, Ride Lonesome alludes less to the separation itself and more to acceptance that comes with moving on. The similarities to 2002’s Sea Change, also rooted in heartbreak, are inevitable, but Beck’s emotional equilibrium shares the lush stillness of 2014’s Morning Phase. Committing fully to the assignment, he even invited the musicians who performed on both albums to return, bringing with them a familiar sense of continuity.

In combining all of these elements, the question becomes whether Beck does enough to distinguish itself from simply going through the motions. The twangy, mellow Americana of the title track immediately takes you back to the twinkling language of Nigel Godrich’s production, which makes the argument moot to a degree. But for all its intricate splendour, the same can’t be said for tracks like “Bleed” and “Slow Canyon.” These, while beautiful in their own right, stop short of meaningful reflection—the latter with a title that is almost comically self-explanatory.

But to Beck’s credit, he allows himself a directness you might not expect from an artist of his stature. On the piano-driven ballad “Failed Words,” he offers a pointedly poetic description that feels as grand as its dramatic gesture: “I want to turn back the world/And bring you back to me/as you rise to your horizon.” On “If You Don’t Know What Love Is,” a Kris Kristofferson homage he pulls off exquisitely, he compares heartache to warfare: “No refuge from battle/in your ragged clothes.” The words are hardly heady, but its simplicity is delivered with plainspoken precision.

While many of the orchestral flourishes on Ride Lonesome do not feel as impactful as those on past albums, they still serve as a reminder that Beck can lend even his more nondescript moments a sense of refinement. Like the open road it depicts with such bittersweet melancholy, its sense of déjà vu can be quietly moving.

Ride Lonesome is out now via Iliad/Capitol Records.