Train Albums (5)
What The Critics Say
Train is one of the stranger cases in pop music. While they've been ubiquitous on radio since 2001's smash single "Drops of Jupiter" and have sold literally millions of albums, they are still considered by many to be an outsider act; they fit nowhere handy on the pop culture radar screen. Despite a sound as quintessentially American as the Counting Crows', and 11 years of slogging it out in bars, theaters, and concert halls, they seem to get very little respect. For Me, It's You is the band's third studio offering with producer, multi-instrumentalist, and co-conspirator Brendan O'Brien. Indeed, O'Brien is so closely identified with the band's sound on tape, he is basically a member. The sound of For Me, It's You is less strident than that of the band's previous offerings, but it's edgier and digs deeper into older musics and styles; O'Brien's filled the spaces with sometimes gritty textures. There's more blues and R&B in its feel. Frontman and chief songwriter Patrick Monahan doesn't feel he has to make you believe the authenticity of his emotions; he believes they're real and it's enough. But more than this, he and the band play looser than they ever have in the past, and he's become a solid singer. He doesn't always have the authority to pull off what he tries, but that's part of the album's charm. The set's first single, "Cab," is the first-person witness of a New York cabbie, accompanied by a piano part that's worthy of one of Billy Joel's finest songs, painterly synth, strummed acoustic guitars, and a killer string arrangement. The report from the driver's seat is both inner and outer. As he observes what transpires through his windshield, he looks deeper at his inner weather. When Monahan sings, "Sometimes, I think I'm the only cab on the road," he's believable. It's a fine song, but it's not the best one here. The polished, full-bodied "Give Myself to You" eclipses it by virtue of its brief R&B-drenched bridge alone, but there's more, too. As the sequenced keyboard line quotes the refrain, the hook is established. Monahan tries his hand at a little covert white-boy R&B singing, and he does it well enough to make the listener wonder why he hasn't tried it before -- when he sings "I'm either outta my head or outta my mind," one can hear him dig deeper into something he doesn't quite understand intellectually, but gets to a degree on the feeling level. This isn't a mistake; he tries it again on "Shelter Me," where he evokes both Steve Marriott and Chris Robinson (the band's new bassist, Johnny Colt, came from the Black Crowes). The tune doesn't quite work with all of its overblown backing vocals and textural dimensions that swallow the glorious Hammond B3 in it. There's also the bridge in "Always Remember" where Monahan's vocal succeeds in saving an otherwise saccharine melody. "I'm Not Waiting in Line" shows Monahan trying on Mick Jagger's skin-tight pants. The tune sounds like the latter half of "Gimme Shelter," which was its model in sonics and groove. The hand percussion, piano, and Jimmy Stafford's lead phrasing are dead giveaways. Train does a credible read of Bob Mould's (remember Sugar?) "If I Can't Change Your Mind." The guitars twang and ring -- though not quite roar -- but the Hammond carries the day on top of a dirty tub thump. The slippery slow, bluesy stroll of the title track closes the set. This is the best kind of love song because it doesn't need to prove anything. It's loose, slippery, and feels raw. The classic "na-na-nana-na-nana-na" refrain, the greasy guitars, the chorus-like backing vocals and horns all give Monahan a ledge to slip out onto. And he does, bringing to the fore every hungry rock singer from Marriott's and Phil Lynott's ghosts to the young Jagger's and Rod Stewart's in his impassioned delivery. Ultimately, it's difficult to know who will embrace For Me, It's You. Critics have savaged their other outings, and it made no difference to radio or consumers. If the past is any indication, it'll be the dictate of the record's success or failure. Their willingness to bet the farm and grow as a band is commendable in an era where playing it safe is everything -- and ultimately nothing. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
A truly refreshing thing about Train's Alive at Last is its sound; it feels like a bootleg recording, where the microphones were all located in the audience, capturing the performance as it happened -- flaws and all. For those seeking pristinely edited mobile unit sound, this isn't for you. This one is for the legions of fanatics that Train inspire. All of the hits are here, and the set opens with (what else?) "Calling All Angels" as the crowd loses it right away and sings along. Listeners can hear the beer bottles tinkling in "Meet Virgina" just before the band erupts on the refrain. Of course, "Drops of Jupiter" is here as is "Sweet Rain," "All American Girl," "Get to Me," and "Stay With Me," which closes it out. Train are on throughout; they don't sound as if they're going through the motions. It's the thing that people love and hate about them the most: they mean it, every word, every beat, every crunchy guitar fill that bleeds into the verse. The singalong parts are irritating, but if you've ever seen the band live, this will pull you in the same way it forces others to flee from them. In fact, this document is the perfect evidence for both sides. It's easy to understand why people hate them; their sincerity is pervasive and it bleeds all over everything. Conversely, this is also precisely why they inspire such devotion in a fan base that is utterly sick of "cool," "hip," "smart," and so on. They only enjoy themselves and affirm who they are with their peers. There are two new studio tracks here, but they needn't have bothered to include them. Not because they're bad or substandard, but because the live set is the story, the whole thing. Coming as they do at the end -- which is the only place they could -- feels like an afterthought and anticlimactic, which of course they are in comparison to this garrulous, excessive performance that gets at the heart of what Train are about for their fans. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Following a hit is a tough thing for any band, and for Train, a cult band that literally came out of nowhere to land a monster single like "Drops of Jupiter" and a platinum album to boot, the pressure to deliver something "more" from label execs is intense. In addition, usually when a band decides to scrap its plans for one album and go back to the drawing board and do something else, it doesn't bode well for the finished product. Train has turned the tables on the redo jinx. Creatively, My Private Nation, Train's third album, is the moment this band has worked for since it started making records. Bringing Brendan O'Brien back on board as producer (perhaps the best rock producer out there right now) and as a co-writer on three songs, Train has upped the aesthetic ante by stripping away any notion that it has to prove that it is "sincere" as a band. The songs speak for themselves. The opening track, "Calling All Angels," which also serves as the first single, is the one song the Counting Crows wish they could still write. It's a huge rock song that signifies what the rest of the album elaborates on. Guitars, drums, backwards tracking of keyboards, and a huge chorus make it an anthem. But it's not so much how hooky and beautiful the tune is -- and is it ever -- as what it says: That in a time of great confusion, loss, and disorientation, one does not call for redemption, but asks for a sign of inspiration, for the courage to not surrender to despair. It's a tome about hope against the odds, acknowledging vulnerability, and accepting responsibility to remain focused and critical enough to win one's own redemption in everyday life, in order to become a better human being. Other tracks -- "All American Girl," "Save the Day," and the title track -- may not feel as benevolent, especially the ones where O'Brien collaborates. These take on pop culture, social malaise, the pretension of honesty, and the selling of everything, and skewer them with acidic wit, huge monstrous guitars, and sonic architectures that defy description other than they make great rock & roll. Pat Monahan and Train don't pretend to speak for anyone; they speak about themselves in relating to the externals and internals of existence in the new century. These things include relating to each other, to their culture and generation, and to the world at large. In order to accomplish this without merely sounding the obvious, a certain degree of intimacy has to be given up in the mix, and "When I Look to the Sky," "Get to Me," "Following Rita," and the closing "I'm About to Come Alive" (one of the more honest love songs written outside of soul and country music in a decade) do just that. Under O'Brien's gorgeous multi-layered production with guitars coming from everywhere (remember how big he made Springsteen's sound on The Rising?) and strings floating and darting through the mix, chromatic shadings and the textures of contemporary psychedelia are rooted in the heart of an ambitious garage band. In other words, O'Brien doesn't make the band sound big, he gets the sound of how big Train actually is in a context that is as aurally beautiful musically as it is emotionally and lyrically poignant. My Private Nation is not an album about angst, but about transcending it and the paralyzing cynicism that goes with it. The question is, when was the last time listeners got a rock & roll album that could do that without cowering in fear of having its optimism shattered? Not in a long time. But that's because My Private Nation isn't about optimism; it's about the flickering glimmer in the darkness, in the heart, in the culture, in the world, and how it should -- and can -- be seized, right now. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Although Train's singles got heavy rotation on "alternative" radio stations, there's nothing cutting-edge about Drops of Jupiter. Train is a classic rock wannabe band in the mold of Counting Crows. That's not always a bad thing. In fact, the best moments on Drops of Jupiter are the most blatant rip-offs. Does the hit title track remind you of Madman Across the Water-era Elton John? Well, it's no coincidence. Paul Buckmaster, who arranged the soaring strings on much of John's best work, reprises that role here, and session keyboardist extraordinaire Chuck Leavell channels John on the piano. And when lead singer Pat Monahan sings "When I get this feeling" in "It's About You," just try not to sing "I want sexual healing" over the actual lyrics that follow. Overall, a safe, solid second effort from a band that knows how to write hit singles. ~ Mark Morgenstein, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
If you like your alt country a bit heavy on the alternative side, with light classic rock touches, then look no further than Train's debut disc. Fronted impressively by vocalist/songwriter Patrick Monahan and supported by strong, guitar-driven pop melodies, this is easy listening rock with crafty edges and unforgettable tunes. "Eggplant," "I Am," "Free," and "Meet Virginia" crackle with inspired hooks and reflective lyrics. Train's music is direct and basic. All around, Train is a total package of good music with smart songcraft. ~ Roxanne Blanford, All Music Guide
