More Angular Banjos

Donald Fagen’s new cd, Morph the Cat, is classic Steely Dan, which really tells you everything you need to know. Steely Dan’s work as a group, and Fagen’s as a solo artists, are of a piece. There are those devilishly simple grooves that you just can’t put down; the cool sixths and soft dissonances in the harmonies; the I’m-so-hip-I-just-can’t- bear-it lyrics; and always Fagen’s naturally ironic vocals, a voice utterly incapable of sincerity. Count me as a fan.

The new one is a good as the average old ones, and that’s good enough. Steely Dan hasn’t produced a great album in quite a while (Gaucho was the last; Pretzel Logic and Aja were the other two), and the output of their relatively recent reunion is middling SD at best. In fact, despite being a Fagen solo, this is probably the best Steely Dan-type recording in quite a while.

It’s only Fagen’s third album. The first – and best – was his homage to the early sixties’ sensibility, The Nightfly; Kamakiriad, which followed years later, is an interesting failure, with no really outstanding tracks. Morph the Cat is fine. It’s what you’d expect, and if you like that Steely Dan-ish thing, you’ll enjoy this one. In some recent interviews, Fagen has said that he views this as a mature set, dealing with Death and other serious metaphors (even conversing with the spirit of Ray Charles, who tells him that it’s not what’d I say; it’s what I do) – but Fagen was an old man long ago. A funky, sassy old man, but an old man notwithstanding.

Meanwhile, I can’t get the title track’s groove out of my head. Which is OK, ‘cause it’s so cool.