DuMB Funk

M.J. Fine Does It Again: Dave Matthews Band

by M.J. Fine

When an ATV accident sidelined LeRoi Moore last summer, Dave Matthews Band kept the tour going with the Flecktones' Jeff Coffin filling in for the founding saxman. They even played the night Moore died. Show must go on and all that jazz.

Ten months later, the pride of Charlottesville, Va., is back with their first studio recording in four years. DMB's released a few live albums in the meantime, but the spirit of 2005 runs through Big Whiskey and the GrooGrux King, which was recorded in New Orleans. The ghosts of Hurricane Katrina surface in "Dive In" and "Alligator Pie," but Matthews shrugs them off with his usual vague optimism. At best, his lyrics are harmless fluff like "Don't cry, baby" ("Why I Am") and "Cry, cry, baby, if we must" ("Spaceman"). At worst, they're just plain treacle about angels and kisses and little girls and ponies. Moore himself is a spectral presence, with his nimble sax solos bookending the disc and his nonsense nickname adding a little color to the title. In his absence, the music itself is bland enough, with only the joyous "Shake Me Like a Monkey" to shake things up.

Of course, the music's been that bland all along. 1994's Under the Table and Dreaming made a good first impression, with an evocative title and photographer Stuart Dee's iconic image of a carnival ride at dusk. And then you press play and hear Matthews sing the vaguely optimistic "The Best of What's Around" in that Baby Sting croon of his, smothered in percussion. The dumb-funk philosophy of "What Would You Say" and "Ants Marching." But it's not all bad: "Rhyme & Reason" simmers with forgotten fire, and "Typical Situation" is pretty — until Moore's damned flute kicks in.

You can say this for DMB, though: They persevere, whether that means preparing Under the Table while their frontman dealt with the murder-suicide of his sister and her husband or pressing on without the GrooGrux King. The show goes on because other people count on you, even if it's just to bask in your mellow tunes. Vague optimism's no substitute for sharp lyrics, but there's something admirable about putting it into practice.

(m_fine@citypaper.net)