ALBUM REVIEW: On Self-Titled 11th Album, The Avett Brothers Keep to Their Path

With their latest and self-titled LP, The Avett Brothers offer earnest and wistfully philosophic songs set within well-polished soundscapes. Continuing to mine the light-pop and folk-rock MO honed on their major-label debut, 2009’s I and Love and You, the band again collaborates — effectively, if predictably — with producer Rick Rubin.

Seth and Scott Avett of The Avett Brothers (photo by Devin Yalkin)

“Never Apart” explores the nuances of a long-term relationship. The lyrics speak to the need for courage (“Life cannot be written / it only can be lived”) while voicing acceptance regarding the reality of impermanence (“Death is not an issue / it cannot break my heart”).

“Cheap Coffee,” the album’s most distinct track from a production standpoint, similarly offers a vision of a tried-and-true romance, albeit from a more removed vantage point. Making understated use of reverb or “wet signals,” the piece hints at but never collapses into a dreamy atmosphere, the singer’s voice slightly distant, implying disembodiment, almost ghostly.

The rollicky “Love of a Girl,” with its cascading lyrics, brings to mind R.E.M.’s “It’s the End of the World as We Know It.” While Stipe and company, however, strove for a cosmopolitan edge, touching on social commentary, the Avetts opt for a more downhome vision (“Toes turned in with my hands in my pockets / like a present day hesitatin’ Huckleberry Finn”), bolstering their loose narrative with instrumentation that could’ve been plucked from a Todd Snider track. “Country Kid” similarly spotlights the band feting their rural origins and small-town orientation (“Three years old on a ramshackle farm,” “I grew up and hit the city / but that metropolis will never get me”).

“Orion’s Belt” is one of the album’s more melodically compelling tunes. Sporting some of the set’s most supple vocals and catchy riffs, the track integrates ’70s singer-songwriter vibes (Jackson Browne, James Taylor) and a Tom Petty-ish pop sensibility. With “2020 Regret,” meanwhile, the band dives into a more melancholy reflection on busyness, loneliness, and how challenging it can be to keep one’s priorities in order. Early work by The Bee Gees (“I Started a Joke,” “To Love Somebody”) comes to mind as a gossamer vocal unfurls, the singer moving from lower to higher pitches effortlessly.

The album closes on a positive note, accentuating in “We Are Loved” that no matter whether we’re forgiven or forgotten, courageous or cowards, “we are loved.” The universe is benevolent, the band suggests — echoing, among others, Einstein, the New Age pantheists, and Franciscan teacher Richard Rohr — embracing us unconditionally.

The band’s last two albums, in particular, featured sonics that occasionally rang as outmoded, as well as lyrics and melodies that sometimes tilted toward mawkishness. This is the case with The Avett Brothers as well. That said, the sequence brims with unquestionable sincerity and hard-won wisdom. Per usual, the Avetts welcome both grief and gratitude, paying tribute to the miracle of love, whether it be human, cosmic, or divine.

The Avett Brothers is out May 17 via Ramseur Records, American Recordings, and Thirty Tigers.