AJR “The Maybe Man” album review
Following the release of OK Orchestra in 2021, I made a vow to steer clear of AJR unless they shook things up substantially. Their narrative of struggling to mature seemed almost self-fulfilling by then. The band's desperate bid for relevance saw them name-dropping Ed Sheeran and Beats By Dre, but in songs lamenting their pop artificiality, all while clutching onto their indie pop credibility. This struggle was reflected in their sales metrics: soaring streaming stats and multiple platinum singles, yet barely a dent in Billboard's Hot 100 or TikTok hits, unlike less trendy bands like Ghost and Mother Mother. Despite a massive online following, they faced significant backlash in the pop scene, contrasting with the respect accorded to indie pop artists like Mitski and Jessie Ware.
In essence, AJR seemed to exist in a musical uncanny valley, their sound steeped in the worst of modern pop yet not aligned with any current music scene.
Yet, with time, I've come to terms with their music. OK Orchestra, upon reflection, signaled a step in the right direction. It embraced a sonic palette closer to genuine chamber pop with electro-pop elements, toning down their usual lyrical eccentricities. I've come to understand that singing about the struggles of arrested development and failure to overcome it is not exclusive to AJR. In the midst of my own turbulent years, I've realized life's challenges are uniquely complex, devoid of a one-size-fits-all solution. However, the Metzger brothers consistently falter in making their personal battles relatable or compelling, often veering toward the mundane yet cringeworthy.
They aim for the awkward adolescent vibes akin to Twenty One Pilots, but occasionally land closer to a version of Rivers Cuomo sans his trademark irony, weighed down by misplaced expletives and references to other artists. Their music tends to be jarring and garish, employing millennial and indie pop clichés without the finesse, akin to Azealia Banks' tumultuous Twitter presence.
The title track "The Maybe Man" doesn't allay these concerns. While it's a relief to have an AJR album without an intro that spoils every upcoming motif, and despite fewer grating pop tropes, the song still tacks on dubstep elements in the last forty seconds, tainting an otherwise disposable twinkly pop tune. The album generally strikes a better balance between new analog directions and their signature tricks, integrating bad samples, pitch shifts, and 808s. But when it falters, these gimmicks stand out, failing to compensate for the simplicity of the melodies. Once again, their choice for the final lead single, "Yes I'm A Mess," falls short, lacking the fun and feeling of their best work.
However, the album showcases moments of improvement, notably in the second single, "The Dumb Song," possibly their best effort after "World's Smallest Violin." Many AJR tracks are loud but lack speed, or they're packed with layers of production rather than raw human instrumentation. "The Dumb Song" defies these norms, offering one of their most exhilarating tracks with a lively beat, though the production feels a bit too brittle, and it's adorned with actual harmonies that invite genuine audience participation. This stands out from their usual stadium-like chants or pitch-shifted chorus effects, although it too suffers from an annoying sample in the bridge.
"Touchy Feely Feel" exudes a similar folksy charm, albeit with a grander tone. Even the synthetic kick drum complements the soothing string work without overpowering it. The best display of acoustic instrumentation arrives in "Turning Out (Part 3)," a slower piece reminiscent of "Dear Winter's" acoustic balladry but backed by a full band. It might lean too heavily on the twee side to rival the best of baroque pop, but the Metzger brothers playing real instruments injects more life into the production compared to their typical heavy post-production. If only this care for organic instrumentation were consistent across the album.
The Achilles' heel of "Maybe Man" persists even with more restrained and soulful production, as the compositions bear a familiar, almost copied quality akin to the most commercial pop tracks. The slight improvement in the less grating 3-3-2 tropical house beat on "Yes I'm A Mess" doesn't add substance, unlike the complete transformation of instrumentation in "The Dumb Song." Despite being a reggaeton imitation, "Yes I'm A Mess" feels like a limp copy with excessive elements but lacks depth.
Similarly, "Hole In The Bottom Of My Brain," despite embracing folksy sing-along vibes, fails to conceal a weak hook. The attempt at a more restrained approach ends up with superfluous embellishments that appear insipid rather than inspired. While the sonic direction of "Maybe Man" represents AJR's best efforts, the melodies come off as weary, lacking standout moments or infectious verses. It's challenging to pinpoint, but perhaps AJR needs even more restraint in their performances—allowing some hooks to rest solely on instruments, avoiding excessive callbacks, letting melodies linger for breathing space. Yet, this might stem from Jack's relatively weaker vocals after eight years, often veiled behind unsteady falsetto. The chipper vibe of "Maybe Man" overstays its welcome when even the peppiest hooks feel soulless. Even the lyrics in "Steve's Going To London" more or less admit the song's filler nature.
Speaking of lyrics, they remain the cornerstone of AJR's love-it-or-hate-it reputation. While there are fewer odd pop culture references and a more introspective perspective rather than universal, the thematic focus remains fixated on the brothers reveling in their own immaturity. While I've come to accept this direction on a personal level, their capacity to make this topic engaging seems exhausted. Without quirky, unfitting references to Netflix, Lego, and marijuana, the direction might have worsened. "Turning Out (Part 3)" exemplifies this dichotomy; it delves into the hardship of growing up when everyone else seems to have it figured out, yet it starts with a reference to Jack having sex. Not only does it seem off-brand for AJR, who've typically hinted at the opposite, but it also feels misplaced. Similarly, the sudden shift to discussing a custody battle in "Touchy Feely Feel" after an odd existential reference in the opening track feels disjointed.
On a broader scale, the album feels like a drag until the latter half, which introduces more meta elements. "I Won't" only amplified my internal comparisons to Weezer, resembling "Thank God For Girls" in its sound. It cleverly tackles the band's theme of individuality and self-empowerment but turns it around to address feeling artistically stifled by their cultivated fanbase. Although ironic coming from AJR, it’s a refreshing angle in their songwriting. Likewise, "Hole..." approaches their developmental challenges through the lens of success, suggesting that the pursuit of fame and fortune exacerbated their quest for inner peace.
Regrettably, the album's most serious track, "God Is Really Real," falls short due to the band's major shortcomings. Detailing their father's 2023 struggle on his deathbed, the song fails to convey the weight of such a heavy, emotionally draining subject. Despite clever audio cuts and a challenge to the notion of 'no atheists in foxholes,' the melody feels too basic and detached for such a grave theme. Odd references to AI and Elon Musk's space race, conflicting with the song's essence, hint at AJR's desperate need for visibility even in their desire to retreat from the public eye.
The album's lyrical low points arrive with "Steve's Going To London" and "2085." The former echoes this record's "filler" track, dismissive of improving one's craft, evoking a cynical and hollow sentiment. On the other hand, "2085" is the brothers envisioning themselves as octogenarians still struggling with adulthood. It's almost an admission of their intent to perpetuate the same songs and mistakes indefinitely.
It's quite absurd to consider their shtick growing old in 62 years when it already feels stale. One might have hoped for more depth in "The Maybe Man." To make their narrative of arrested development engaging, demonstrating genuine growth would have been key. If they find growing up arduous, exploring how they overcame it amid adversities, or challenging societal ideals like Twenty One Pilots, could have added substance. But instead, their worldview, much like their reputation, appears self-fulfilling. The lack of earnest effort to evolve leaves them stagnant. Their music and life path show a distinct lack of momentum, embodying inertia, as the band themselves acknowledge.
I would give this album 2 out of 4 stars.