Gary Jules Albums (4)
What The Critics Say
If Gary Jules' debut album was a superb collection of songs (a few of them dating back to his late teenage years), Trading Snakeoil for Wolftickets is a stunning, focused follow-up. Reflective and melancholy, dusk-colored and dreamlike, it finds supreme repose through songs of somber experience. Composed in the concentrated two-year span after being unceremoniously dropped from A&M and recorded essentially on his own, the album is a wellspring of songcraft that charts a course through tangled emotions. Jules' voice betrays many things -- hurt, disappointment, and uncertainty, but also, importantly, recognition -- and the songs find a range of moods, from the joyous, late-night-with-loose-change-in-my-pockets ode "DTLA" to the breathtaking resignation of "No Poetry" and "Something Else." On the surface, little seems to have changed about the music. It is still a fragile but lush wish: the cymbals whisper, and acoustic guitars pick out the delicate melodies while waiting for the occasional, flirtatious reply of soft electric runs. But in every way, Jules has grown as an artist. Trading Snakeoil for Wolftickets plays out like a song cycle. It documents Jules' convoluted relationship with Los Angeles, an adopted home that retains an unrelenting hold over the songwriter, and the music is imbued with the city's spirit. You could even say that Hollywood acts as a character of sorts on the album, both a protagonist and antagonist, sometimes standing at the center of songs, sometimes fading into soft focus behind Jules' stories, but always, in some way, casting a shadow. The album moves through vaguely cynical expressions of dejection, toward acceptance, before finally inhabiting a humble, restive place, a personal journey that culminates in "Umbilical Town," on which Jules lingers in the past for a few brief moments before letting go of it all. And in the stark ghostliness of Tears for Fears' "Mad World," hauntingly rearranged as a piano ballad, he comes up with a performance that more than matches the work of Cat Stevens in terms of solemn, profound beauty, isolation, and depth of searching. Trading Snakeoil for Wolftickets takes on a shimmering glow. Gracious and redemptive, it is a rapt, quiescent masterwork. ~ Stanton Swihart, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Greetings From the Side marked the emergence of a remarkable songwriting talent. Gary Jules arrived on this debut fully formed, an insightful lyricist whose words were accompanied by some of the most sad-eyed, exquisite melodies to come out of the decade. In that respect, the album sporadically recalls the finest soft rockers of the early '70s -- no surprise there, since Jules was raised on the era's AM radio staples. He particularly shares a kinship with Paul Simon. Like Simon, Jules has a knack for drawing out the smallest but most compellingly human aspects of his subjects in sketches of uncanny clarity, whether they are complex third-person narratives ("Barstool," "Jeremiah Weed") or introspective examinations. Both artists also write songs with hushed, pensive exteriors that, nevertheless, often belie heart-shattering and hard-learned truths. But these songs unquestionably arise out of a tougher, more cynical age. Jules' soulful, soft-gravel vocals provide his musings with an almost wounded depth. Many of Greetings' songs are lived-in, even scarred, but haven't given up on finding happiness despite all the evidence to the contrary. A displaced, restless mood runs through the music like a thread, an attribute the artist shares with the Counting Crows, which he recalls on "Bluefish" and the beautifully ruminative "Heroes & Heroin." The songs capture individuals who want to change, or at least find something to hold onto. And even when they betray romantic yearnings, they are romantic in the most unflinchingly honest way. Michael Andrews provides a minimalistic but wholly sympathetic and organic production. He mostly allows the songs to do their own selling via pretty acoustic guitars and hazy, sun-fried drums. But the woozy slide guitar passes that he insinuates into the mix also emphasize the music's distinctly southern Californian ambience. There are brief moments when Jules doesn't seem to inhabit his songs quite as fully or that don't seem to cut as close to the bone, perhaps because several compositions date back nearly a decade. Regardless, it is a gorgeous, touching work, one of those albums that is waiting for -- and wholly deserves -- rediscovery. ~ Stanton Swihart, All Music Guide
