My Morning Jacket Continues the Jams But Loses the Groove on the Lyrics

Over the course of more than 20 years, My Morning Jacket has gradually mutated from a Southern indie rock curiosity to, perhaps predictably, stalwarts of the jamband scene.

Phish is on pause? No worries. My Morning Jacket frontman Jim James and his Louisville compatriots will light up the electric guitars and delve into sonic experimentation as the fans gather, rejoice, and chronicle the action on Twitter and Reddit.

James even acknowledges his band’s road warrior role — and a changing music economy — on its latest LP, a mixed-bag self-titled effort packaged with trippy cover art and vague ideas about the ills plaguing society.

“Technology came and stole my living again / ain’t nobody buying records no more,” James accurately reports on the clunky “Lucky to Be Alive.” “Well they cut off all the bread that used to keep us fed so / thanks for coming to the show!”

Here in the days of algorithm-driven listening and curated playlists, the rock album lacks the importance it carried when My Morning Jacket was delivering critically acclaimed touchstones like It Still Moves and Z back in the 2000s. But that’s no excuse for lazy lyrics like those that scar this album.

“The Devil’s in the Details” plods jazzily for nine minutes with cringey lines attacking American consumerism and war-hungry politicians. “Going to Sephora / to find a different face,” James laments. “With enough paint / I’ll disappear without a trace.”

“Regularly Scheduled Programming” may be the worst offender, lacking any and all subtly. James rhymes “fresh fiction” with “screen time addiction,” the words landing with a preachy, frustrating thud.

But does it even matter if the fans on tour are going mainly to hear legacy tracks like “One Big Holiday” and “Dondante”?

My Morning Jacket features a handful of songs that can hold their own. “Never in the Real World” is a confident, chugging warhorse in the vein of “I’m Amazed” from Evil Urges. And “Out of Range Pt. 2” is a twinkly breather, slowly climbing to payoff. Maybe those two and a couple of others from this LP will wind up on some satisfying playlists or be a pleasing addition to listeners at the show.

Is the solidly designed front-to-back rock album experience a vestige of another time? My Morning Jacket suggests here that — through a failure to self-edit — lyrical inferiority is acceptable as long as the sonic soundscape is appropriately psychedelic and readymade for the road.