When you're trying to follow up a successful debut, there are generally two routes you can go. The first is to stick with what works. Cause if it ain't broke, you probably won't be either. Hopefully you can innovate just enough to keep it from being just more of the same. The second strategy is to “explore” and “try something new.” That's all well and good, but there is a history of fans not being interested in following whims and experiments. Fortunately, Damien Rice has decided to go with the first approach for the most part, while throwing in a dash of the second, just enough to keep things interesting.
Damien's new record, 9, treads similar sonic territory to O, in that it's largely slower and more stripped-down acoustic singer-songwriter fare, interspersed with songs of thicker dynamic texture. For those who have seen him live, the range of emotion he sometimes captures in a single song can almost be all-inclusive. Songs from the stage frequently begin at a whisper and crescendo upwards to a point just before the whole thing would crash and fall apart. This was captured to a lesser degree on O, but you could still got a sense of what could happen. On 9, the dynamics have been reigned in just a bit more. There are less whispery moments. But there are also more aggressive moments. Overall, it's a bit more judiciously balanced, but the emotion is still there.
The album starts with “9 Crimes,” which falls somewhere in between “The Blower's Daughter” and “Cannonball” from O. It also displays that the concept of the band has been solidified a little more, perhaps simply due to keeping the same group of players around.
The cohesiveness of the members' roles seems to be part of what keeps 9 more focused. There are two duet songs (the single “9 Crimes” is one), and generous inclusions of cello, strings and backup vocals round out the mix. On tracks such as “The Animals Were Gone” and the closing “Sleep Don't Weep,” you get the sense that the gentle dirge of acoustic wordplay is traveling. Songs are no longer islands to themselves but they're minstrel companions. It's not thematic, there's no over-arching story, but the tracks mirror the performers,and become a troupe of like-minded partners and sojourners.
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