Review: John Moreland Finds the Quiet Spaces in a Loud World on 'Birds in the Ceiling'
In a world that has spent the last three years living with a pandemic that has taken millions of lives and an America that watched its seat of power attacked from within for the first time since the Civil War, there are a lot of artists who have a lot of things to say. Much like the “great folk scare” of the '60s and Vietnam, there are dozens of albums with opinions that are strident, angry, mournful, and occasionally hopeful. On Birds in the Ceiling John Moreland went with reflective.
It's a choice that works for him. Over the course of his career, even when his songs edged closer to Springsteen-style rockers than John Prine-style folk tunes, Moreland has always been his best when he was exploring the quiet places hiding in plain sight. Certainly he's had plenty of material in the past couple of years. Finding quiet places in a world determined to shout each other down, with the winner being the person who screams the loudest, is a daunting task, but it's one Moreland pulls off perfectly, always present but one step removed, making the time to think and letting the world do with it what they may.
The songs on Birds in the Ceiling work best when tackling the current political climate. Avoiding the easy path, a forceful scream of outrage, he instead dials it back to the personal level. Several tracks mourn the loss of friendly debate, the loss of reason, the loss of friends to a cult of personality that divides the world into a black and white “us” and “them.” He sums it up most successfully on “Claim Your Prize” when he drawls “I told you the truth and you told me it was treason. I'm thinking back on all your pretty petals before you felt there was this score you had to settle.”
Moreland takes on another weighty issue with “Truth Be Told,” The 1/6/21 insurrection at the Capitol to stop the certification of Joe Biden's Presidential victory. Again, he wisely lets others talk about the big picture; the threat to democracy, the prospect of domestic terrorism. Instead, he lets us remember what most of us saw and felt during that time; confusion, sadness, and resignation. “January eyes, fixed on iridescent lies. Truth be told it's no surprise...” he sings, a man looking back at when “I saw you standing in a pose wearing someone else's clothes” and knowing the result was not only unsurprising but inevitable. “At the end of our rope, or some other tired trope. Raised in the glow of a television show.”
The one place Moreland isn't reflective is on the album's best track “Cheap Idols.” The song, per Moreland's own words, are an indictment of “end stage capitalism.” And, while angry Moreland retains much of the same gentle vocals as pensive Moreland, the words are much more incendiary. With a sampled drum machine into and intricate guitar lick, Moreland comes out of the gate firing; “Brother come out of your slumber, before the devil knows your number. Passing down our grief and illness, plastic flowers, plastic business.” Cheap idols dressed in expensive garbage indeed.
Another song sure to be a live favorite is the album's first single. “Ugly Faces.” Here, Moreland tells of a man looking back on his own history and realizing his brain sometimes lies, melding true events with fantasies his mind created to be a place of safety. He wonders “Does it even matter. Does it ever last? I didn't want the answer to the question I had asked. Can I kill a monster? Can I be a man?” It's a song anyone who has experienced trauma will immediately be drawn to.
There are moments on Birds in the Ceiling where the song ends with dead air. Not a lot. A couple of seconds here or there. Just enough for you to take in the lyrics. Just enough for you to lay your own experiences over them. And maybe, if you're lucky, just enough to find those quiet places of your own.