Y: Ravi vs. Paula on My Morning Jacket

Ravi: I might have liked this album seven years ago, but then again, seven years ago, I was living a life sustained by a diet of Jack Daniels, marijuana and ecstacy, with the ocassional mushroom trip, if I was able to make enough money selling promo CDs to secondhand record stores. Point being, there are only two kinds of people that this album could possibly appeal to: druggie hippie fools, or reformed-but-still-holding-on-to-the-hippie-dream ex-druggie hippie fools.

Paula: Did the mushrooms make you listen to Phish? Is that why you're so bitter about music that can be trippy and haunting without outside help? You got home one night, accidentally put on the new String Cheese Incident or that awesome Phish bootleg from 1995, found yourself loving it and now have to hate on anything that even mildly reminds you of that night, right? It's OK, these things happen. My Morning Jacket forgives you.

Ravi: I have no regrets about what I did or what I listened to back in the day. What I do regret, however, is having to sit through this musical abortion. If this is what passes for trippy and haunting these days, then I'd suggest that you START a drug regimen, stat. MMJ is like one of those bands that has a great live appeal—to burnouts and hipsters that like simple music —but there's nothing ambitious or exciting about their studio work. "Wordless Chorus" is the only good song on this album, and after that promising start, Jim James lamely falsettos through nine more tracks. Even I could squeeze out more emotion from a dishrag. This album should really be called ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

Paula: So, wait, how can you say MMJ has "great live appeal" because of their simplicity (and yes, I realized that was a backhanded compliment) and then turn around and say that the same quality makes them unambitious in the studio? I suspect I'd manage to squeeze a less half-assed approach from a hippie burnout or from that charismatic dishrag you seem to have lying around.

Ravi: It's that in the studio, they lack disciprine, grasshopper. On stage, all is forgiven for digressions, because the whole point of a live concert is to take a song from the manufactured studio process into something spontaneous. I think most people would like that—being able to chant along with their favorite songs, and bob their heads to a jam session. But, it's a totally different experience, for me at least, when played on the booming system. That's because the whole point of an album is for heads to actually LISTEN, not just hear. My Morning Jacket is too fucking concerned with fellating Jim James on Z that the whole process becomes about "let's show how versatile his voice is." Live, this could be accepted as a thematic part of the set, but in the studio, it's just some pretentious shit. I mean "Off The Record" has great lyrics, and I read it as MMJ's mesage to the fans about the musical crossroads they're at, but they record it as Jim James doing a Bono circa Zooropa impersonation, and what's up with that wack Hawaii 5-0 riff, and then the song just keeps going for another three minutes. Get to the next fucking song already!

Paula: Oh master, you're so wise, for a snob. I think you're obsessed with Jim James in a not so healthy kind of way. Surely you'll concede that a good album doesn't have to have "chant-ability" to it. What makes Z work, considering that so much of it is reminiscent of a jam session is that it's very much the kind of album you can throw on and have on the background for hours. It works as a background soundtrack, but also remains interesting should you be in the mood to actually focus on it. Why are you in such a hurry to get to the next song, anyway?

Ravi: That's right, I love Jim James and want to have all his babies. Oh wait, that's not me, that's just every single MMJ fan's reaction from when they played at Webster Hall last year. If they still sold beer in glass bottles I would have ended up stabbing someone in the neck. But you prove my point, Z is nothing more than background music—background music that would make Tim Leary proud—turn on and tune out. Doctors should prescribe Z as a cure for insomnia.

Paula: You cannot possibly judge a band by the hipster fan base that shows up in New York. I would've gladly helped you sharpen shards of glass at Webster and while we bonded over which dirty Brooklyn kid rocking a full beard we'd hit first, I would continue to argue that just because you can tune out when MMJ is playing doesn't make them boring. As a matter of fact, I bet you an anti-hipster rampage with Z as the soundtrack would be the perfect cure for the winter blues.