Barenaked Ladies – Detour de Force: Am I coming off like my hits don’t stink?

Artist: Barenaked Ladies
Album: Detour de Force
Year: 2021
Grade: C

In Brief: Another mediocre release from this long-running band that reveals their idea tank to be almost completely empty. I say “almost” because there is some occasional wit and insight for those willing to dig through the deep cuts and listen for more than just the occasional bouncy call-back to their 90s heyday. They’ve given all three of their songwriters something to do, and the diversity is appreciated, even if a lot of the ideas don’t really stick. Let’s just say that I appreciate the “detours” on this album a lot more than the “force”.


Alright, folks, it’s that time again. The Barenaked Ladies have cranked out yet another album, in an attempt to demonstrate that they’re here for the long haul even though founding member Steven Page said sayonara to the band over a decade ago, and I’m unsure whether my willingness to listen to a new record from them at this point has become a sad running joke, or if I actually still hold out someone amount of hope that they might not completely suck at it. Honestly, I could go either way. They’ve put out their fair share of goofy, middle-of-the-late-90s-road pop/rock tunes over the years, to the point where I half expect there to be a factory somewhere in the Canadian woods that just cranks these babies out at Ed Robertson‘s personal request. As the de facto leader of the band, he’s clearly determined to make this work, even if he’s admitted that the albums are generally a secondary concern compared to the joy of performing for an audience. I admire the work ethic, but the lack of quality control has been pretty glaring in the post-Page years. Of the five albums they’ve put out as a foursome so far, I was genuinely intrigued to hear All in Good Time, cautiously optimistic about Grinning Streak, incredibly wary of Silverball and Fake Nudes, and genuinely unsure if this new one would be worth my time in any way. These albums haven’t always matched my expectations, mind you – at their best, the BNL have at least offered a fair amount of variety on these records, with Kevin Hearn and more rarely Jim Creeggan chiming in with their own ideas, mostly keeping things innocuous and a bit cutesy just like their bandleader has a habit of doing, but every now and then managing to land an emotional punch or do something satisfyingly surreal. Fake Nudes in 2017 is definitely the best example so far of the band surpassing my low expectations during this era. I genuinely liked that album, even if it had its fair share of dumb jokes and unmemorable filler tracks – it still had more genuine imagination going for it than the band had in a long while. But should I have expected that same lightning to strike twice on this year’s Detour de Force? No, I really should not have.

My gut told me something was very wrong with two of the early singles for this project: “Flip” and “Good Life”. Both are pretty blatant attempts to recapture the fun-loving atmosphere from back when the band first hit it big with singles like “One Week” and “Pinch Me”. Take a pretty standard guitar-driven pop/rock sound, throw in some punny wordplay here and there, maybe a few “whoa”s or “yeah”s for the sake of audience participation, and if you’re feeling especially cheeky, slather a goofy rap verse on top, and you’ve got the formula for pretty much everything the band has shipped to radio on these last several albums. This time around, those singles felt painfully familiar, almost as if it was a matter of cutting and pasting elements of the mostly lukewarm singles from the last several projects and rehashing it all in a slightly different order, the way Taco Bell does with ingredients in their new menu items. We’re well past the point where this approach is gonna win them a ton of commercial success, yet they keep at it like their lives depend on being faithful to that sound. I’m not opposed to a good straight-up pop song when the lyrics are witty, the melody is intriguing, and/or the lyrics are trying for something a little more than just “Hey, everybody, let’s be cheerful and party like it’s still the good old days!” I’ve always known that the BNL had more to offer than that – they can be surprisingly tender or even a bit subversive when you strip back some of the pop gloss and let one of their songwriters truly speak from the heart. The problem is, despite being capable of doing that, they continue to insist on churning out unhealthy amounts of the bland, predictable stuff. There’s really not much about Detour de Force, aside from a couple stray references to the surreal disaster of a year that was 2020, that deviates from the template used on Fake Nudes in 2017. The biggest difference is, we’ve got a much higher quota of mediocre songs to actually intriguing and memorable ones this time, and a handful of these songs blow right past mediocre and land in straight-up awful territory. Seriously, as much as I criticized Grinning Streak and Silverball for some of their corny lyrics, I don’t think anything from either of those albums was as unutterably stupid as the lowlights on this bad boy are. I’d honestly rather listen to Born on a Pirate Ship or Everything to Everyone straight through than this one, and let me tell you, those are the BNL records that try my patience the most.

Thanks to Fake Nudes turning out so much better than expected, I honestly hung on to this one for a while, trying my best to suspend judgment on some of its more distastefully cheesy numbers, insisting there were some genuine flecks of gold to be mined from its deep cuts. And there are a handful of tracks – particularly in the home stretch near the end of the album – that I think I can defend as examples of reasonably good, possible even insightful, songwriting, even if the music’s too low-key to really grab most people’s attention. But for the album as a whole, praise is definitely not warranted here. It’s time I took off my rose-tinted glasses, stopped being an apologist for a band who hasn’t really done much to earn my respect for quite a while now, and just admitted to myself that the Barenaked Ladies are a dumb band that writes mostly dumb songs, with the specific intent of making you smile and maybe do a dorky dance. Sometimes their obvious tricks actually work on me, and I find myself singing along with the stupidity in spite of myself. But that’s still a pretty far cry from writing genuinely good songs, or putting together an album that has a reason for existing beyond “We’re excited to get back into touring and we needed some songs to play.” Because that’s really all Detour de Force turns out to be – a mediocre excuse disguised as a legitimate album.

INDIVIDUAL TRACKS:

1. Flip
Right up top, I’ll make two observations about the three singles released from this album. First off, they’re all piled up right at the beginning of the album – a sure sign that what you’re gonna get later on is a bunch of hodgepodge with little regard for pacing or consistency. Second, all three are co-writes between Ed Robertson and Better than Ezra lead singer Kevin Griffin. Honestly, I don’t know enough about Better than Ezra (from whom I’ve heard only one album, which was actually pretty decent) to have any insights into what a collab between them and the Barenaked Ladies might have sounded like in both bands’ heyday. But in 2021, all I’m hearing is a desperate attempt on the BNL’s part to relive that heyday. This track is basically just an excuse for Ed to string together a bunch of fun-sounding rhymes – they’re mostly nonsensical, but hey, they’re all in a row! I suppose you could argue that “One Week” was pretty much the same thing, but there was something in the delivery and the outright absurdity of that song that made it feel special, before the whole “Hey, white guys are trying to rap, isn’t that funny?” thing became a tedious, played-out joke. Take the lead-in to the first chorus, for example – it starts off amusingly enough: “Nothing’s indelible/Everything is sellable/Whether you’re an animal or vegetable or mineral…” But then they have to go and drop one of their dumbest-ever puns on us: “It’s criminal to think, it drives a man to drink/Am I coming off like my hits don’t stink?” Oh, HA HA, I get it, you were gonna say “shit”, but you word-swapped it at the last second. (Which is made even weirder by the fact that Ed actually does say “shit” in two other songs on this record – not that I’ve been paying super close attention, because it’s been a long time since I found that sort of thing even remotely offensive, but I honestly can’t remember the BNL dropping even mild curse words on an album since Maroon in 2000.) This song has a summery, carefree vibe to it that I want to like – perhaps in the late 90s I would have found its stuttering acoustic groove and its playful rhyme schemes entertaining (though I’d probably still have thought the tacked-on “Whoa-oa-oh” hook was a bit anemic). And I’m not knocking the band for trying to get us to flip our perspective and try to see the positive side of a bad situation. Levity has been in short supply so far in the 2020s, after all. But there are so many moments in this song that tempt me to blurt out loud, “Are you SERIOUS?!”, that it’s hard to take this one at face value, and like most of the BNL’s goofier material, it’s not deliberately jokey enough to feel like it was meant to evoke laughter. By the time they drop a reference to the old nursery rhyme “Here is the church, here is the steeple”, I am just ready to be done with this song. Y’know, you guys made an album specifically for children before; might be a better use of your talents if you’re gonna keep the writing on this level.
Grade: C-

2. Good Life
So yeah – that was a bad start. But trust me, it can get worse. The obnoxious sample right at the beginning of this song, with someone scream-singing “OHHHHHH it’s a good life!” in their best Pentecostal preacher voice, tips us off immediately that we’re in for even more ill-advised white-boy hip-hop posturing. Normally when I say that the Barenaked Ladies are getting a little rappy just for giggles, I mostly mean that they’re still singing, and it’s just that the rhythmic cadence of the song and the overall delivery makes it clear what genre they’re spoofing. But there is an actual, honest-to-God rap breakdown in the bridge of this song, and you can practically hear Ed grinning from ear to ear as he recounts his exploits with the band from decades ago: “One Week was a high peak on the hot streak/Wasn’t even funny, made money by the ton/We could’ve packed it up, then we had a Big Bang/Now after three decades, it’s still a good hang.” I get that this is intended less as a brag and more as an expression of gratitude that after all these years and everything they’ve been through, he still gets to do his favorite thing in the world with three of his best buds, and I can’t fault him for being excited about that. But once again, there’s really no joke here – no self-deprecating signal to let us know it’s all just a goof. At some point, I think this dude started to convince himself that he could actually rap. He can’t – well, not any more than I could, at least – but the sheer gumption demonstrated in this irritatingly insipid song is certainly a spectacle to behold.
Grade: D+

3. New Disaster
Alright, so here’s the rare song on this album that I actually, legitimately like. Not gonna say it’s an instant classic or anything, but as catchy pop/rock songs with a clever lyrical angle go, this one at least passes the smell test by not saying anything that instantly makes me want to facepalm. This time they’re more specifically applying their insistently bouncy good mood to all of the paranoia and scaremongering we’ve been subjected to over the last couple years, basically pointing out that there’s always something going on in the world to be scared of and lose sleep over, and at some point you’ve just gotta stop letting it control you. Pretty boilerplate stuff so far, but where I think it hits the nail on the head is the sly bit of commentary on how the media will exaggerate the threat just to keep people tuned in and thus keep making money: “Here comes a new disaster/Here comes the end of days/Next up, the sweet hereafter/We’ll tell you all about it after this commercial break/Stay tuned for scary monsters/Watch out for rising tides/But first, a word from sponsors/Might be a mess, but it’s a hell of a good time.” That’s both a witty lyric and a fun chorus to sing along to. (It helps that there’s a much stronger “Whoa-oa-oh” hook here. If you’re gonna run the most obvious plays from the pop music playbook, at least do it with gusto!) Depending on your disposition, you could take this one simply as advice to be cautious about these concerns without letting the worry consume you, or you could take the cheery, upbeat attitude of the song as a statement from the broadcasters, basically saying they’re living it up because they’re making bank off of everyone else’s gullibility. I choose the latter, simply because the Barenaked Ladies haven’t written much of anything subversive since Steven Page left, and I want to believe the bottom of their barrel hasn’t been completely scraped clean yet.
Grade: B+

4. Big Back Yard
Next up is the first of four songs that Kevin Hearn contributed to this album, and he’s become a pretty dependable guy who I can usually count on for a nice change of pace when I’m starting to grow weary of Ed’s usual shtick, so… NOPE, this one’s pretty lame. As much as I appreciate the group sing-along at the beginning with the stomps and handclaps, and the more laid-back, folksy atmosphere, this is one of those songs that starts with a cute idea, takes it way too far into the realm of irrelevant list-making, and winds up with the point it’s ultimately trying to make coming across as an afterthought. In his gentle, cuddly-dad-next-door voice, Kevin assures us that all he ever wanted was a big back yard, in which he can check all the cliched big back yard-y things off of the checklist, like having barbecues with his buddies (actually he sings “a cue that barbs”… yikes) and putting in a tire swing for his kids and gazing at the stars and stuff. This is all perfectly innocuous – it’s not like I have a problem with him wanting that. It’s pretty much the definition of the American (or Canadian, I guess) dream. The line that really cuts to the heart of it comes in the third verse: “I’ve been living so long with this hole in my heart/I became a drifter and began to roam/Now all I really want is a home.” And while I can say “Awwwww” and sympathize with him for feeling homesick when he’s out on the road, I have to admit it’s a weird sentiment for their first album made during quarantine, during which I’m guessing he saw way too much of his personal residence just like the rest of us did. That’s a minor nitpick, though – he probably wrote it before 2020. The bigger issue is that it takes so much wading through the cute but largely irrelevant details to get to the sickly sweet punchline. It’s simplistic heartstring-tugging disguised as deep thought.
Grade: C

5. Live Well
This is Ed’s only solo writing credit on the album, and I have to say it’s not bad. Every now and then he’ll whip out something with a little bit of country twang to it, but not in a way that sounds like he’s just goofing on the stereotypes of the genre. It’s more of a subtle flavor that you can hear in the guitar tones and the vocal harmonies, and I have to say that Jim and Kevin are doing quite a nice job of backing him up in both departments, while Tyler Stewart keeps things moving with a nice little snare drum shuffle. Ed’s lyrics are basically a rebuttal to all those irritating Facebook posts your friends post that say stuff like “Raise your hand if you didn’t wear a seatbelt/drank from the hose/went out alone late at night/etc. when you were a kid and you turned out fine!” His take on this is just because he made dumb mistakes and survived to tell the tale, that doesn’t automatically make his life a well-lived one. In other words, there’s more to a fulfilling life than simply doing all the dumb, hedonistic stuff you want and hoping it somehow all turns out OK. He’s grateful to still be alive and kicking, and to have had the opportunity to learn from them, but he wouldn’t wish the consequences of those experiences on anyone. Some fairly decent insight here, even if musically it’s one of the more subtle and less attention-grabbing tracks on the record (which is a blessing in disguise, considering how painful many of those attempts at attention-grabbing turned out to be).
Grade: B

6. Flat Earth
So here’s a little story that Ed’s got to tell, about a time he went to get a haircut and ended up overhearing some wacko conspiracy theorist lady rattling off a whole lot of anti-science nonsense, and things got awkward when she caught a glimpse of him laughing at her and went to go tell him off. It’s… mildly funny, I guess? Honestly, as much as I appreciate his witty barbs (my favorite being “I said my sign was ‘Stop'” right after she tries to psychoanalyze him based on his birthdate), he kind of pulls his punches here, noting that “If I’m gonna believe in her, I might as well believe in Flat Earth”, but never really going into much detail about the lunacy he overheard. She’s not actually a Flat Earther; she apparently just spouted off nonsense that was about as believable as that in Ed’s book. So like… was she an anti-vaxxer? Was this some QAnon-level stuff, or what? There are plenty of whacked-out ideologies floating around out there these days that could use a witty takedown from a clever songwriter, but apparently Ed’s not the guy to deliver the knockout blow. He just tells us that this lady’s “talking shit” and more or less leaves it at that. Not helping matters AT ALL are Kevin’s cheesy keyboards, which I swear to God are mimicking the “nah nah na-nah nah” melody that little kids sing when they’re teasing each other. This one sounds like it could be the wacky theme song to some critically panned sitcom that only ran for half a season and then everyone forgot about it. (To be fair, dorky sitcom themes are in this band’s wheelhouse.)
Grade: C+

7. Here Together
Side one of the album closes out with a rare Jim Creeggan lead vocal. Typically he gets one shot at this per album; this time they were generous and they gave him two (which I guess makes up for Grinning Streak, where his one song was relegated to the bonus tracks). Most of the time I don’t find his lyrics all that memorable, but I never really remember them as being bad – they’re just sort of vaguely pleasant. That’s basically what this track is – a nice, pleasant little slice of acoustic pop with some subtle vocal harmonies to back Jim up as he sings about seizing the day and enjoying what time he has left with his lover before the world ends or something to that effect. Honestly, the main attraction here turns out to be Kevin’s keyboard playing, which starts off with some nice acoustic piano before switching to electric midway through, and really adding a sparkly, colorful stamp to the song in its last couple minutes. Kevin can certainly work wonders with his instrument… when he’s not busy fiddling around with the Disney Jr. setting.
Grade: B

8. Roll Out
Here we have a pretty solid contender for the all-time dumbest song that the Barenaked Ladies have ever seen fit to put on a record. Given how lax the quality control has been in the post-Page years, that’s really saying something. It’s (thankfully) the last of the co-writes with Kevin Griffin, though Craig Wiseman, better known as a songwriter/producer in the land of country music, is also credited here, so maybe we can blame him for this hot, steaming pile of crap? Doubtful. Ed’s playing his own hype man at the beginning of this song, and all the trite interjections are classic Robertson. (If you think he’s kidding, you can kiss his dust. Yup. That’s in the chorus.) This song is otherwise not as “rappy” as “Flip” or “Good Life”, sounding a little bit more like watered-down Latin pop with its insistent horn section blaring out a rather pedestrian hook. The lyrics are more of the usual word salad, with plenty of references made to corny hitmakers from past musical eras, ranging from the Backstreet Boys, to Journey‘s “Don’t Stop Believin'”, to Ricky Martin‘s “Livin’ la Vida Loca”. It’s a bad sign when I’d rather listen to any of those rampant cheese-fests than I would this song.
Grade: D-

9. Bylaw
I would like to officially retract the claim I made in the previous paragraph, stating that it was the Barenaked Ladies’ dumbest song. Because this has got to be their all-time dumbest song. This time I only have Kevin to blame for it, since he somehow thought that being woken up at 7 AM by a construction worker, and later being pulled over for making a rolling stop, made good subject matter for a song about the bylaws of his local community. Um, sure… I guess if you’re scoring a seminar for new members of your local HOA, this might be marginally informative? For the rest of us, it’s boring as hell, and it’s chock full of weak puns and painful rhymes, making me wonder if the idea for the song came from the brilliant observation that the name “Kevin” rhymed with the numbers “seven” and “eleven”. The music is a bland, cruise ship-friendly take on a bossa nova rhythm, with a corny horn section coming in later just in case it wasn’t already embarrassing enough. Hell, this makes Jason Mraz seem profound by comparison. (To be fair, goofy cruise ship music is in this band’s wheelhouse.)
Grade: D-

10. God Forbid
While the next several songs are all on the mellower side, I have to say that the songwriting is consistently pretty good from here through to almost the end of the album. Ed returns to his folksier side on this one, working with country singer-songwriter Donovan Woods to come up with a convincingly contemplative song about why a guy who doesn’t believe in God still invokes his name in dire circumstances. It’s honestly a clever bit of self-examination, with Ed noting that he didn’t really grow up religious and has never really felt the need to pray – he’s just one of those guys who believes things will work out the way they need to without humankind beseeching the heavens for a favorable outcome. The question that haunts him, though, is why he’ll say things like “God forbid” when something truly awful occurs. It’s like some instinctual part of him still processes it that way, even though his rational brain said all that supernatural stuff is nonsense. I don’t think he comes to any super profound conclusions, but it’s definitely an interesting question to explore, something that gives us a little insight into what makes this otherwise unsinkably optimistic entertainer tick. The music here is, once again, pleasant but not terribly memorable. Mostly just a relaxed acoustic guitar strum and light drums. Kevin chimes in with what sounds like a harmonium to give it some color, which is really the only musically interesting aspect of the song.
Grade: B-

11. Paul Chambers
Jim’s back in front of the mic here, with a gentle, jazzy song that pays tribute to one of his personal favorite bassists, the late Paul Chambers, who played on some of Miles Davis‘s most famous recordings, including Kind of Blue, which is name-checked here as a record he reliably puts on to set a romantic mood, much to the chagrin of his partner, who apparently knows his habits all too well. An analogy is drawn here between a bassist improvising based on the chord changes made by the bandleader, and a couple trying to work their way through changes in life, requiring them to improvise when things don’t go as planned. I’m sure the analogy has been made before, but the sentiment is sweet and believable here, and the actual chord progressions and key changes that serve as a nod to this style of music are honestly quite lovely, even if I’m never going to confuse the Barenaked Ladies for an accomplished jazz quartet or anything. Jim may not get the spotlight very often, but in terms of writing enjoyable songs, he’s two for two on this album, which is a better ratio than any of his bandmates. (I guess technically Tyler Stewart is zero for zero. You can’t lose if you don’t play.)
Grade: B+

12. The National Park
Oh goodie, more Kevin Hearn weirdness. PLEEEEEEEEEASE don’t suck this time, Kevin. Actually, this understated little song helps quite a bit to redeem him in my eyes after those last two blunders. It does a nice job of keeping the “after hours” vibe going that Jim handed off to him from the previous song, and there’s a natural tone of childlike curiosity in Kevin’s voice that works well here as he recounts a camping trip that had him and his buddies feeling a bit scared and vulnerable, all alone in the wilderness overnight, but it also left him in awe of the vast expanse of nature around him, and that made him consider how odd it is that we have these preserved areas where we put nature on display like it’s in an art museum, to keep human society from completely overrunning it like we’ve done almost everywhere else. As in “Here Together”, he achieves a pretty good balance between tasteful acoustic piano and more eccentric synths – there’s a lot of subtle texture here, and thankfully the meditative mood is never interrupted by the self-conscious need to do something joke-y that sometimes torpedoes this band’s more sensitive songs. The vocal melody here isn’t much of anything to write home about, but I guess we can’t have everything.
Grade: B

13. Man Made Lake
If you thought those last few songs were a bit on the drowsy side, then this delicate acoustic number, which is just over five minutes long, will almost certainly put you to sleep. Personally, I don’t mind the sustained mellow mood, because the songwriting’s markedly better on these late-album tracks, and they’re refreshingly far from the gimmicky stuff that the band tends to do on most of their upbeat songs. Ed’s back in the saddle here, with Donovan Woods co-writing once again, and the two of them seem to bring out each other’s more introspective sides, which I don’t mind at all. This song works both as a follow-up to “God Forbid” and also “The National Park”, since it’s about wonder and disillusionment all at the same time. Looking at an old photo of himself as a kid, he remembers trips to a lake that he thought was a fascinating place back then, thinking it was as vast as the ocean, but now that he’s older, he realizes the lake isn’t even a natural phenomenon – everything was arranged just so by architects and landscapers trying to recreate the feeling of a wilderness environment when in fact there are probably highways and strip malls and such just beyond the tall trees. It’s kind of a downer for Ed to realize this, and he doesn’t have a witty quip or perky platitude to tack on to it – he just wants that sense of innocence and wonder back. This track probably won’t blow most listeners away musically, but I think it says a lot more in the margins between the lines than it actually spells out in the lyrics, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s some good songwriting. The last 30 seconds or so of the song are a peaceful pause, with the faint sound of ocean waves in the background. The album could have ended on this note, and I’d have been fine with it.
Grade: B

14. Internal Dynamo
Okay, now this – THIS, ladies and gentlemen – absolutely has to be the dumbest Barenaked Ladies song in existence. Am I right, people?! Actually, I’m not sure. Against all odds, this bizarro closing track actually manages to be kind of awesome, even while it’s in the process of being supremely stupid. I think I like it because it throws me for such a loop that I don’t even know what to do with it. This is primarily a Kevin Hearn composition, and I unironically enjoy what’s happening in his part of the song – the slow, ambient intro with some random blurts from a muted trumpet to help set the surreal mood, and then the programmed rhythm and trance-like melody that eventually kicks in, with Kevin singing in a low, chant-like melody about some woman having an “internal dynamo” (which I guess means she generates her own electricity or something) that totally lights him up. Yep, already pretty weird, but you ain’t heard nothing yet. Right the heck out of nowhere, the song shifts to an up-tempo funk/rock breakdown, and Ed comes crashing in attempting a Red Hot Chili Peppers impression, followed by Tyler (in an extremely rare turn in front of the mic) taking his own crack at it, the two of them presumably having improvised their lyrics on the spot. (Ed interjects at one point that “You wouldn’t like me when I’m funky!” He’s not wrong.) Then the song settles back down and hands the mic off to Kevin as if nothing had happened, letting him ride his zen-like refrain for the last minute or so. Yeahhhhhh… THAT just happened.
Grade: B-

WHAT’S IT WORTH TO ME?
Flip $0
Good Life -$.25
New Disaster $1.25
Big Back Yard $.25
Live Well $1
Flat Earth $.50
Here Together $1
Roll Out -$.75
Bylaw -$.75
God Forbid $.75
Paul Chambers $1.25
The National Park $1
Man Made Lake $1
Internal Dynamo $.75
TOTAL: $7

BAND MEMBERS:
Ed Robertson: Lead and backing vocals, guitars, banjo
Kevin Hearn: Lead and backing vocals, keyboards, guitars
Jim Creeggan: Lead and backing vocals, upright and electric bass
Tyler Stewart, Drums, backing vocals

LISTEN FOR YOURSELF:

MORE USEFUL LINKS:
http://www.barenakedladies.com
https://www.facebook.com/barenakedladies/

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