AC Newman

Get Guilty

(Matador)

Record Review by Alex Pudlin

Although Carl Newman is the founder, main songwriter and supreme visionary of the New Pornographers, he’s often overshadowed by Neko Case’s role in the band. It’s not easy competing with a woman who can sing. Especially when she has red hair. Newman wisely recognizes Case’s gifts and has put his ego aside for nine years, always inviting Case back for another round. And when Newman wants all the attention, he switches his name to A.C. and releases a solo album. Newman’s latest affair, Get Guilty, does the trick: it’s a compelling reminder of Newman’s many talents, in case you forget.

On Get Guilty, Newman plays it somewhat safe, but what he lacks in risk-taking, he makes up for with the sheer consistency of his craft. There are few true standouts, but there also aren’t any disasters either. Newman’s songs here continue in the tradition of his first solo album, The Slow Wonder, and his New Pornographers catalog, but if anything they maintain a cohesion not always heard in his previous work. The songs still mostly adhere to the acoustic guitar tinged brand of power-pop that Newman’s perfected, but he varies tempo and tone enough to ensure that Get Guilty is not a one-note affair.

The result is a steady showcase of concise catchy songs, all written by a yeoman’s hand, but given the proper room to breathe. “Like a Hitman, Like a Dancer” is perhaps the most memorable track here. Guitar strums trade off with percussion clicks in anthemic, Paul Simon-inspired glory, as Newman delivers a robust vocal performance. “Prophets” is another soaring track on which Newman buries a gritty guitar line in the mix to help steer the song clear of the arena.  And “The Collected Works” combines a slightly out-of-tune piano, strings that sounds like an asthmatic’s wheeze and a vocal that’s a bit reminiscent of Britt Daniels. It’s a fine mix of elements indeed.

The musical variations between songs are subtle, but not inconsequential.  “There are Maybe Ten or Twelve” rings out with pizzicato drinks and tambourine, while elsewhere Newman peppers the tracks with mandolin (“The Heartbreak Ride”), spacey keyboard arpeggios (“Elemental) and whistling (“All of My Days and All of My Days Off.” On “Thunderbolts,” Newman shifts the song structure and gets away from the verse/chorus model in favor of stop-and-go meditation on just a few chords. It’s a bit more repetitive than the other numbers here but Newman’s use of violins cranking like saws drives the momentum forward.

Get Guilty will have very few people clamoring for the dissolution of The New Pornographers. Nonetheless, Newman offers an album that’s far more than something to tie his fans over until the next full-band showcase. If only more band leaders would take their side projects as seriously as Newman, the world would be a better place. Or at least one with more solid albums.