The Automatik

Maplemusic/Universal, 2004

It was bound to happen sooner or later. After gushing about Joel Plaskett’s genius songwriting and peerless vocal stylings as much as I have, I’d have to be disappointed eventually. Truthfully Truthfully is not a terrible album, or even a bad one. It’s just not a worthy follow-up to Down at the Khyber.

The album opens with the powerfully catchy 70s-revisionist riffs that Mr. Plaskett has always delivered. From “Written All Over Me” to “Come On Teacher,” it’s mostly non-stop rock and roll goodness. Then, at “Red Light,” we notice that the Emperor has lost his shirt. Despite the rather likeable chorus-posing-as-a-bridge that saves the song from being a failure, it’s fairly repetitive.

Suddenly, it becomes obvious what else is missing. Sure “Extraordinary” and “Come On Teacher” have amusing lyrics, but what are they saying? Nothing as heartfelt or wry as There’s love in the air, but I’m on the ground, that’s for sure. Even Plaskett’s voice, which usually invokes awe, seems to be lacking passion. Furthermore, I’m not sure if his continual references to himself as a troublemaker and a rebel (or more bizarrely, an SUV driver) are supposed to be ironic, but they are certainly perplexing. If Joel Plaskett is a bad ass, then Sloan’s Jay Ferguson is a bad ass, and he’s not.

After nearly giving up hope, we’re then blessed with the gorgeous “Radio Fly,” which is enigmatic enough to be interesting and melancholy enough to be memorable. This is why I love Joel Plaskett: he can take a song that’s ostensibly about the sad state of the music industry and make it sound like the #1 single of the year. Yet, it’s a false alarm, as the remaining tracks are almost, dare I say it, pedestrian. I can almost see the lighters in the air during the inexplicable power ballad, “You Came Along.”

Plaskett’s been taking pages from the Led Zeppelin Book of Rocking for years now and unlike the experience of listening to The Cult, you don’t stifle an embarrassed snicker when you realize it. He makes it all sound as fresh as it did the first time you listened to Physical Grafitti after nicking it from your dad’s record cabinet. Without the combination of clever lyrics and imaginative chord changes, however, those musical references sound stale.

The amazing thing about Joel Plaskett is that he’s more charming than Cock Rock but less precious than Indie Rock, ditching the contrived nature of both for sincerity and wit. His talent trajectory, from Thrush Hermit through his solo releases, indicated that Truthfully Truthfully would be supernova. To be honest, it just isn’t. I hope that Plaskett’s next album makes me forget that I ever questioned his musical authority.