The year 2000 was replete with heartwarming success stories of musical perseverance: Eminem, the Faint and Radiohead all broke big after long paying their dues outside of the top 40. The real winners of that year, however, were Moby and David Gray. Both stories had a touch of romance, desperation and American (er, Irish) spirit to them, as each artist broke through, neither relying on the strength of an edgy new sound nor the wake of industry buzz and beginners luck.
No, the romance of the Gray and Moby sagas is that each artist made it big on mid-career efforts (Moby’s twenty-somethingth, and Gray’s fifth) after being cut from their home record labels, and as a result of stubbornly doing what they had been doing all along. For Moby, laying other people’s samples over looped synth versions of “Chopsticks,” and for Gray, crooning to a handful of drunk Irish 40-year-olds about the finer points of middle-age stuff, let them punch their respective golden tickets. This time two years ago, “Bodyrock” and “Babylon” were virally infiltrating the airwaves.
The similarities don’t end there. When it came time for Moby to follow up with his would be sophomore “commercial” effort, he stuck (unsurprisingly) to his tried and true formula, which by that point had lost both its novelty and its soul. This spring’s 18 was flatter than week-old keg beer, but its cuts are innocuous and buzz-ridden enough that top 40 plays it anyway. As if on cue, on Tuesday David Gray dropped his sixth record (and first release since White Ladder exploded in 2000), A New Day at Midnight, with similar results. Like a Fleetwood Mac reunion, all the familiar pieces are there, but the magic is gone.
Whereas White Ladder chronicles a last gasp at holding together Gray’s failing musical career and addled personal life, A New Day at Midnight just sort of floats where its predecessor left off, unrefreshing and unevolved. The record is chock full of familiar folky-ballads and anguished moaning, but lacks the passion and urgency that made White Ladder undeniably engaging and heartfelt. The result is that, like Moby’s 18, Gray’s latest either hints at a painfully limited range that has lost its relevance (in 2000, it was a delightful throwback to the glory days of Cat Stevens amidst the static of top-40 cock-rock), or merely implicates Gray as a sell-out, as he plays it safe in order to milk this cow for as long as his name-recognition lasts.
Either way, A New Day at Midnight is a pale shadow of its predecessor at best, or a sad grab at some big-label cash at worst. To say that the record is unbearable, however, is slightly misleading. Indeed, the inert grooves don’t offend the ear, and standard Gray fodder like “Freedom,” “The Other Side” and “Easy Way to Cry” will sooth the average adult-contemporary fan and forays into bluegrass on “Caroline” will mollify the hipster Wilco neophytes out there. Indeed, A New Day at Midnight is ultimately a pleasant listen and admirable effort if taken out of context. Unfortunately, against the backdrop of genre contemporaries Dave Matthews, Ben Harper and their ilk, who seem to improve and develop with age, this songwriter’s latest exists merely as a eulogy for what could have been.
