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Before listening to Up From Below, the debut album from Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros, I went to their Web site, and all I saw was a bunch of people (apparently the band) holding hands and dancing in a circle. I immediately got that sick feeling that I’d stumbled upon just another band adamant on resurrecting that 1960s-ish folksy flower children stuff. I found more photos that almost confirmed by suspicions. Worse, I couldn’t figure out who the hell Edward Sharpe was.
A press release that came along with the CD explained it…sort of. Edward Sharpe was born out of immaculate conception; his father was a robot who had turned into a boy. Edward didn’t grow arms and legs until he was almost two years old. Thankfully, the color of the sun, which was F#, provided the element that his bones needed to grow. There’s more, but I’ll stop here. You get the idea.
With great hesitation, I played the opening cut, “40 Day Dream,” and my fears subsided. I felt like I was listening to Journey, sans the strong pure vocals of Steve Perry or Arnel Pineda. However, lead singer Alex Ebert—I think he’s Edward Sharpe—does it his own way, with such a passionate voice, that it’s worth playing over and over. Ebert takes on a Johnny Cash sound in “Up From Below.” “Home,” another favorite, features vocalist Jade Castrinos, who accompanies Ebert and belts out a country-hillbilly tune sprinkled with a Sgt. Pepper-like brass. Yeah, the lyrics are trite, but who cares? “Desert Song” sounds like a combination of Pink Floyd, Steve Winwood, and some bands that I just can’t put my finger on.
Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros have upwards of ten varying members, playing all sorts of instruments: guitar, bass, harmonica, synthesizer, keyboards, accordion, trumpet, viola, drums percussion, and one I’m sure I missed. However, there’s no strong lead guitar, so you’ll be disappointed if that’s your thing.
Not every song is a keeper; some of the songs, like “Janglin,” have that folksy ‘60s chorus that I grew tired of. “Black Water” starts out strong, but, again, those all-too-familiar outdated choruses manage to ruin the song. However, “Come In Please” redeems the passion of the album. Unfortunately that’s where it ends—and I just couldn’t keep focused on the last four cuts. “Kisses Over Babylon” sounds like an old ’60 epic soundtrack. And the final cut, “Om Nashi Me,” the longest cut on the album, gives me the feeling that it represents something significant, but I can’t figure out what.
Though there are a few cuts that I really enjoy, the rest of the 13-cut album just didn’t do it for me. I admit that Ebert (Sharpe) is original and creative, but there’s just not enough good material to sustain an entire CD.
Let’s just say that, for those of you who really miss the bohemian era of the ‘60s, Up From Below may be just what you’ve been waiting for. For me, though, the jury’s still out.
