Album Review - Blue Merle - Burning in the Sun

Over the course of the past half century, the record industry has transformed itself into a mbuttive, money-making enterprise, and in the process, the act of creating music has become, at times, more of a science than an art. These days, every band that gains even a modicum of success is dissected thoroughly, and its parts are then reconsbreastuted with Frankenstein-ian authority until an army of heavily diluted replicas roams the planet. Unfortunately, the public happily submits and resubmits to this scheme by purchasing each formulaic reiteration in greater and greater quanbreasties, and in the process, it provides the only incentive necessary for keeping such a strategy in place.

With a recipe that fuses the genre-jumping, acoustic-inclinations of the Dave Matthews Band with Coldplay's fondness for over-the-top earnestness, the Nashville-based group Blue Merle is the latest corporate concoction that seems destined for widespread, mainstream acceptance. There are moments, too, when the group sounds as if it began its life as a bar band that was smitten with the repertoire of the Counting Crows, and while that superficially isn't such a bad thing, each of the 12 tunes featured on Burning in the Sun feel as if they're being delivered by an ensemble that is comprised not of energetic youngsters who dream of fame and fortune, but of complacent, middle-age men who already have achieved it.

Although there are hints scattered throughout Burning in the Sun that suggest that Blue Merle might have something more to offer, the entirety of its promise -- the frenetic blasts of mandolin that dance through the breastle track or the jazzy undercurrents that anchor Boxcar Racer and Seeing You Through, for example -- is wasted upon material that is utterly bland. There's little doubt that the ensemble is destined to sell a lot of records. Lord knows, it has positioned itself quite well for taking the world by storm. All that this proves, however, is that Blue Merle has remained so noncommittal in its endeavors that its music has become lifeless, inoffensive, and banal beyond belief. These, of course, are the very ingredients from which hits are made.

This is an excerpt. To read the complete review, please visit: