Artist: Matchbox Twenty
Album: More than You Think You Are
Year: 2002
Grade: A-

In Brief: If you loved the stylistic variation of Mad Season, but wished the band would rock a little more, then your wish has been granted.

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I’m only what, a little less than a year late on this one? Sorry about that. I like Matchbox Twenty quite a bit, despite how much they get slagged for being a faceless post-alternative rock band that annoys fans of real music by having their hit singles plastered everywhere. Sometimes you just have to realize that just because something’s radio-friendly, topically similar to most of the other radio-friendly bands, and doesn’t break any new musical ground, that doesn’t automatically make bad music. So why did it take me so long to really get into their latest album? Beats me.

Maybe it had to do with the first radio single. The first time I heard “Disease”, I thought it was trying a bit too hard to mix elements that just didn’t mix. Keep in mind that I generally keep myself isolated from the radio, so I heard the song once online, dismissed it as not my thing, and went on to pay attention to a lot of other new music that was coming out around the end of 2002. It wasn’t until this past spring that I finally got to the point where I was ready to give More than You Think You Are a fair shake. That probably had something to do with numerous failed attempts to download the album (something which I often try to do before making a purchase), and I didn’t see it selling anywhere for cheap, either. When I finally gave the album a listen in its entirety, I had to admit it was nice to hear the band rocking strong after the mostly subdued Mad Season. But even then, the very same trick that made me love Mad Season wasn’t working for me this time around. Perhaps I was only able to look up to Rob Thomas‘s tales of confusion and woe in romantic relationships when I was going through something similar on my own. And this time around, I was pretty happy in that department. If anything, the more rock-oriented approach only made the subject matter seem more tired and grating. This didn’t look promising.

But then something changed. True to its title (which struck me at first as being way too similar to their 1996 debut Yourself or Someone Like You), many of the new songs have revealed themselves to be more than I thought they were. Sure, there’s Rob’s usual rapid-fire cynicism pointed at ex-lovers (does the poor guy keep getting dumped, or is he still bummed over the same girl he was whining about last time, or does he just make it all up out of thin air?), but a lot of these songs seem to go beyond the bitterness and into picking apart the resulting actions and emotions, much like the best tracks on Mad Season. The difference is that the band somehow manages to turn out a more consistently rocking album this time, employing fewer production tricks, and yet at the same time keeping the subtle diversity that makes so many of the songs stand out in the listener’s mind. Even if you’re having a tough time remembering song titles, repeated listens to the album will likely trigger memories – “Oh, yeah this is the disco song! And there’s the banjo song… and here comes the Gospel choir!” As much as Matchbox Twenty may be considered standard pop/rock by a lot of people, I have to point out that it’s not easy to throw in that many flavors and spices while making a record flow well. And when one of Rob’s clever lines smacks you upside the head from out of nowhere, well that’s the icing on the cake!

Of course, I can’t consign all of the lyrics to Rob Thomas alone. While he still serves as the band’s chief songwriter, I still have to give credit to drummer Paul Doucette, guitarist Kyle Cook, and producer Matt Serletic for contributing to a few of these songs, just as they did last time out. Speaking of Kyle, he and Adam Gaynor have certainly amped up their double-guitar attack. There’s really only two or three songs on this album where the music slows down enough to let the band catch its breath… it ain’t hard rock, but it’s got enough grit to make it an excellent driving CD for those late nights when you’re trying to get home without falling asleep at the wheel. Yep, it’s a driving record, best suited for playing at full volume (and singing along at the top of your lungs if you can keep up with Rob) when you’re alone in the car.

INDIVIDUAL TRACKS:

1. Feel
I love the intro riff on this track. It gets the album going with a “no-nonsense” attitude – Kyle’s instrument seems to be choking on itself in its attempt to spit the notes out. Not to be outdone, Rob’s vocals are similarly frustrated, ending each line of the verses with an abrasive emphasis: “What you want, what you got, live your life in a CRAWLSPACE!!!” He sounds like he’s frustrated with a person who doesn’t want to break out of their shell, who doesn’t want to let themselves experience emotion because of the pain it might bring. That’s a major theme on this record, and sure, it’s as melancholy as your average emo band, but melancholy ain’t so bad when you consider the alternative – not feeling at all. Rob begs this person, “I’m only askin’ because I wanna know/How you wanna feel.” It’s as if he’s saying he’ll do whatever it takes just to get this person to let it out. I love some of the random lines he interjects that seem to make no sense at first. What on Earth could he possibly mean when he says, “I’m a number on your wall, I’ll make you so tired”? (My best guess is that the number in question would be 3 AM.)

2. Disease
This was the single that turned me off at first. It just has an odd chord progression – something I normally like, but this one just took forever to catch on. Now that it’s had its run (and I don’t recall it being nearly as ubiquitous as many of MB20’s previous singles), I’ve finally come around to the point where I almost love it. The first verse sputters through an odd stop/start section before really getting off the ground. Once it does, it’s a pretty tasty mix of dirty rhythm guitar and a disco-flavored drum beat. From there, the major obstacle to overcome is the hit-and-miss lyrics, which are for the most part rather cynical. Rob co-wrote this one with Mick Jagger, and while I know nothing about Jagger’s writing style, I find myself tempted to blame him for inane sentiments such as “You taste like honey, honey/Tell me, can I be your honeybee?” But for every dud, there’s an awesome comeback such as “You’re hell on wheels in a black dress.” So the song winds up on my good side when all is said and done.

3. Bright Lights
Okay, this song has nothing to do with the movie Gremlins. Just wanted to get that out of my system. When it starts off with a lone piano and Rob’s voice, I’m often tempted to think it’s way too early in the record for a ballad. Fortunately, what could have been a blatant attempt at “If You’re Gone, Part 2” becomes so much more than that when it drops in a little country flavor and a whole lotta passion midway through. What starts as a sad story of a girl who left Rob to pursue her 15 minutes of fame in the big city quickly turns into an unabashedly loud plea for her to “Turn yourself around and come back home!” A little rhythmic syncopation goes a long way towards lifting the song out of pure ballad category, and the way Rob sweetly sings “Baby, baby, baby, when all your love is gone” makes for a memorable hook if ever there was one. I really like how the song is played in the key of E, but slips down to the D chord on the word “love”. It’s one of those shifts in melody that just works and I can’t quite explain why. I’ve been pleased to be hear this one coming across the radio waves in recent weeks.

4. Unwell
If there’s a track on this album that runs the risk of making everyone sick of it the same way folks were with “If You’re Gone” on the last record, it would be this one. Feels like I’ve gone into one too many stores and heard this song’s gleeful banjo intro and Rob Thomas casually reminding us that he’s just a little bit crazy, as if knowing that his mudslinging would make a good soundtrack for my own life right now. In an interesting twist, this song doesn’t seem to deal as much with relationships as it does with the fact that we’re all secretly a bit off kilter. Musically, it’s one of the most easygoing tracks on the record in terms of its speed and its calm, piano-driven verses, but it works a magic all its own as it names off a number of idiosyncrasies that so many of us thought we were the only ones to possess. “I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell,” he rationalizes. Come on Rob, just admit that you’ve got one foot in the looney bin. You know we all love you for it.

5. Cold
While it possess a bit more crunch than the last few tracks, this is one of the songs that doesn’t engage me as much as the rest of the album. Maybe it’s because Rob’s ramblings about being mistreated in a relationship seem a little less inspired this time out. I can understand the overall theme, since it talks about how couples tend to purposefully deprive each other of affection when they’re feeling unhappy about something, and there’s a fairly strong guitar-and-drum breakdown during the bridge, but a chorus that kind of trails off without much resolve ends up dragging it down, much like it did in “Bent”.

6. All I Need
Another solid tune crops up here… I think this one had a brief run on radio, and that didn’t surprise me at all, since the overall tone of it sounds like something you’d have heard on the radio in a previous decade, just amped up a little. Once again, the guys are at the top of their game in terms of subtly sprinkling in diverse influences… the electric intro tips its hat to country, while the chorus has a backbeat that ventures into Motown. Rob stops just short of being a sage here, taking the focus off of himself and realizing how unhappy a number of people are with their supposed “lovers” who pick them up and discard them at the drop of a hat. He describes this in terms that only Rob Thomas could – “People still use each other with a crooked smile.” The chorus takes a bit of an unexpected turn, as he seems to be craving that sort of superficial attention, but when he sings “That’s all that I need/Someone else to cling to”, I can’t help but hear it as sarcasm, as if he’s rolling his eyes and saying, “Yeah, ’cause that‘s just what I need. About as much as I need a frickin’ hole in my head.” The song has all the right touches and quirks to make it stand out – there’s even a cute little false ending after which the band goes for a quick victory lap. Sweet.

7. Hand Me Down
This sympathetic ballad bleeds over from the resolution of “All I Need”… for some reason I get a picture of a truck driver on a lonely highway in the wee hours of the night when I listen to this one. That mental picture probably has something to do with the “weepy” guitars that once again borrow a little bit from country music (gee, that influence is present on more of the songs than I initially realized!) Rob amuses me during this song’s verses – it’s a slow song and he’s still spitting out clever tongue-twisters as if they were no trouble at all. The song follows up on “Bright Lights” in a way, by addressing a girl who’s been used and abused by the big city. Rather than saying “I told you so”, he seems to be identifying with her, and what he has to say to her is actually rather touching, despite the harsh declaration that she’s “just one more hand me down”. He’s basically telling her that those other clowns don’t understand her worth because they just use her and then pass her along… but he understands her and wants her to come back to the place where she can be assured she’s loved. A light, twinkling piano adds just the right amount of sadness to the chorus, just to accentuate the mood.

8. Could I Be You
The next piece is an interesting diversion – it was composed entirely by Paul Doucette. As you’d expect, the drums are rather prominent, but rather than drowning everyone else out with some insanely fast beat, he keeps the band in mid-tempo mode here. The song seems a bit clunky at first because of this, but Paul’s lyrics turn out to be of the same caliber as Rob’s as he describes a curious girl who seems to live life to the fullest and always express herself loud and clear. It’s almost the antithesis of the person described in “Feel” – this person is in touch with their emotions and is “laughing out loud at just the thought of being alive”. And there’s something in that line that tugs at my soul – I simultaneously hate that person, and yet I want to be her. Rob seems to be making the same request as he struggles with his own inability to communicate – “I was wondering, could I just be you tonight?” It’s common to see a person who seems genuinely happy and wanting to feed off of their energy – but when you get to the point where you actually want to be that person – well, that’s when you know that something fundamental needs to change.

9. Downfall
Paul hands the lyrical torch back to Rob with an ingenious transition – the previous song leaves the question “I was wondering…?” hanging in the air, while an organ bleeds over into the first line of this song – “I wonder how you sleep”. And suddenly the band jumps into a lively little number with a percolating drum beat, some mean guitar runs during the chorus, and get this – a Gospel choir. They don’t show up until the middle of the song, but when they do, watch out – it’s a trip! They offer a vocal breakdown, repeating the line “Only love can save us now”, which echoes Rob’s slightly deranged request during the chorus – “Be my savior and I’ll be your downfall”. It’s as if his resolve is finally breaking down, and he just wants to get back to some semblance of happiness, even if it means putting the person he admires on an emotional see-saw where she sinks into sadness as he feeds off of her. The spiritual language is almost unsettling in this context – but Rob has hit the nail on the head, because this is exactly what makes a lot of relationships go wrong. One person is expecting the other to “save” them from something and they only end up dragging that person down.

10. Soul
Another tune shows up here that can be a bit grating from time to time when I’m not in the mood for it. The relaxed tempo transitioning into a loud, sing-songy chorus doesn’t quite work for me this time. It also seems to cover lyrical ground that was better addressed in “Could I Be You”. This time around, he seems more angry than jealous about the fact that she seems to have a “Don’t worry, be happy” mentality. I don’t think it’s a bad song or even a misstep on the band’s part – it’s just a slight drop in quality from the surrounding material.

11. You’re So Real
A cool bass intro gives Brian Yale the chance to show off while Rob goes into more of his patented rambling. Admittedly that’s getting a little old by now, but he still manages to get a smirk out of me when he quips “You like the things that I do/Wrap ’em up and take ’em with you”, just before the band tears into a retro, wig-out sort of rocker. This song’s notable mostly for its relentless tempo (which relaxes slightly during the bridge) and a truckload of Rob Thomas-isms (my favorite being “I’m alright. Hope I could sleep for one night/If not to cool my insides, maybe to calm my backside”.) Okay, so Rob loses a few points for rhyming “soul” with “cold” during the chorus – doesn’t he knew it’s confusing to use the titles of two other songs so prominently? But I still can’t help but love it – I don’t recall the last time a mainstream Top 40 band was this darn quotable!

12. The Difference
The album’s final listed track has a very “reminiscent” feel to it, almost as if the main guitar melody was lifted straight from some unnamed radio hit from my childhood. (Lifehouse‘s “The Beginning”, which was also #12 on their album, had a similar effect on me.) Rob slows down his vocal delivery a bit on this one, just to let us chew on each line. Here he seems to be comforting a friend (maybe he’s talking to himself) who has just watched the girl of his dreams walk out in him. What Rob has to offer the guy is not only comfort, but a bit of tough love when he asserts, “For all you know/This could be/The difference between what you need/And what you want to be.” In other words, I know it hurts, but this is doing you a lot of good and you just can’t see it yet. It’s a fair stab at summing up the record, since we’ve repeatedly witnessed Rob pining away over things that won’t truly help him recover from his mild dementia. Maybe losing something instead of gaining it is the key here. Just a guess.

13. So Sad So Lonely
Tucked away after “The Beginning” is a peppy little bonus track that really stands out, and yet at the same time I can see why it might have not fit in well with the rest of the album’s material. It’s got a very jerky beat, almost swing-inspired in places, and the overall tone and melody are strongly reminiscent of Iggy Pop‘s “Lust for Life”. For the most part, it’s more of the expected moping around over being single – “I don’t want nobody/And nobody don’t want me.” But it’s fun to bounce along to, and there’s an unexpected guitar breakdown in the middle that comes careening back into the chorus when the guys shout “I hope you get what you deserve!” (One of the album’s few mild swear words does crop up here, when Rob spits out the line “Dance all night with your a** on fire”.) After the song comes crashing to a close, the guys can be heard arguing over whether it was worth spending so much time on a “lame” song… I love it when bands slip in those humorous bits of studio chatter!

So yeah…You’d think I wouldn’t be able to relate to all of this verbiage and riffage at this stage in my life. There’s just something about the way Rob looks back at past mistakes and forward to potential future mistakes on this record that makes me think, Been there, done that. He’s gleaned some wisdom from it all, even if most of the time he’s either feeling too much or not enough to be able to be able to act upon that wisdom. And that’s generally a good selling point for me, especially when the music is this consistent throughout. If you approach your music in a similar way, then you’d do well to check this album out. Betcha it turns out to be more than you think it is.

WHAT’S IT WORTH TO ME?
Feel $1.50
Disease $2
Bright Lights $2
Unwell $2
Cold $1
All I Need $2
Hand Me Down $1.50
Could I Be You $1
Downfall $2
Soul $.50
You’re So Real $1.50
The Difference $1
So Sad So Lonely $1.50
TOTAL: $19.50

BAND MEMBERS:
Rob Thomas: Lead vocals
Kyle Cook: Lead guitar
Paul Doucette: Drums
Adam Gaynor: Rhythm Guitar, vocals
Brian Yale: Bass

LISTEN FOR YOURSELF:

WEBSITE:
http://www.matchboxtwenty.com

Originally published on Epinions.com.