"A nd we all call out and stare/Oh the love we need isn't there/And we all sing songs in a room/Sarajevo erects another tomb," Cranberries vocalist Dolores O'Riordan croons condemningly in "Bosnia," one of the 13 new tracks on To The Faithful Departed. Though the lines appear at the end of the Cranberries' newest effort, they describe the band's latest direction. Forget the breathy, dreamy music of the past; now they've got Something Important To Say.
The Cranberries' first two albums, Everyone Else is Doing It, Why Can't We? and No Need to Argue, were delicious collections of slowly-lilting reminiscence, a gorgeous merging of old- world Celtic ambiance and pop sensibility. Sure, they had their political moments in songs like "Zombie," but those moments were subtle and coherent, nothing like the heavy-handedness to be found on the group's third release.
Light guitar opens "Hollywood," the first track on Departed, but after a few seconds there is a pause--followed by a crashing wall of guitars and drums and O'Riordan's pained howl. It is only the introduction to a rougher, meaner Cranberries sound which returns throughout the album. "Salvation," the first single, is a heart-racing, delirious and addictive warning against the dangers of drug use. The faster pace is fabulous; The Cranberries have never sounded so strong, and O'Riordan's voice remains undeniably beautiful. But the lyrics, for all their bludgeoning insistence, leave something to be desired.
In "War Child," horns and acoustic guitars set the stage for a gentle ballad or sensitive plea. Instead, we are confronted with images so obvious even Spike Lee wouldn't touch them. We meet a homeless Vietnam vet on the streets of New York City, and then are given the rundown on his battle scars. "War child/Victim of territorial pride/Plant the seed/Territorial greed/Mind the war child," O'Riordan scolds. It's a pretty tune, but it ignores deeper psychological undercurrents--both those which incite warfare and those which desensitize people to political turmoil. Repeating phrases like "who's the loser now?" in the fadeout of "War Child," or "the saints go marching in," at the end of "Bosnia," transforms what is intended to be a wake-up call into inert background music.
Other songs, like "Free to Decide" and "I Just Shot John Lennon," strike a bit closer to home. The former discusses the right to commit to suicide ("I'll live as I chose/Or I will not live at all"), though its argument is scattered. And the album's mention of Kurt Cobain--which would be compelling in this context--instead appears alongside the lionization of JFK in "I'm Still Remembering," a number which seems to be about O'Riordan's marriage, not assassinated heroes. "John Lennon" is a tasteless look into the mind of Mark David Chapman, laced with adrenaline-driven guitars and crazed lines like, "he should have stayed at home/He should have never cared." Five sickening gunshots close the scene; I'd discourage Lennon fans from subjecting themselves to the entire affair.
Some of the anecdotes on Departed are just plain silly. Take "The Rebels," meant to depict a kind of "we-were-here-first" bunch of outcasts. "We wore Doc Martens in the sun/Drinking vintage cider, having fun... Painted our toenails black and grew our hair long." It's unclear why we are subjected to this round of reminiscence, though later verses may serve as clues: "what I am now is what I was then/I am not more acceptable than them." While that may be true, in the context of this album's adolescent polemics the couplet comes across as an unintentional punchline.
The band takes a welcome dip into '50s-inspired melodies on the do-wop ballad "When You're Gone," a track which merges traditional Cranberries wistfulness with apple pie-schoolgirl yearning. The strings-and-mandolin-drenched "Joe" would be a perfect last dance at the prom James Dean missed to go drag-racing. Other songs, like "Forever Yellow Skies" and "Electric Blue," also mature the band's approach without compromising its integrity.
"Will You Remember?" is a delightful surprise, taking its cue from wild-woods gypsy music and dark carnivals. In whirling three- four time O'Riordan sings to another lost lover, "Will you remember the dress I wore? Will you remember my face?" Keyboard effects draw us through a funhouse--or madhouse--until the final chorus turns the rollercoaster ride upside down. "I won't remember the dress I wore/I won't remember champagne/I won't remember the things that we swore/I will just love you in vain."
Though To The Faithful Departed has its moments, The Cranberries' efforts don't create compelling reasons for us to sympathize. Their causes are noble enough, but the method of transmission is too schlocky to be moving or meaningful in any lasting way. The musicianship on the album is excellent overall--with O'Riordan and Noel Hogan doubling up on guitars, Feargal Lawler on drums and Mark Hogan on bass.
Even though this record is more brash and uptempo than listeners might be accustomed to, the mandolins, strings and whistle preserve the spirit of The Cranberries' lush sound. Too bad the music doesn't save them from the quicksand that is their lyrics. It's disappointing that a band with so much promise could fail to deliver in its most ambitious work yet, but comforting to know that there's nowhere for them to go but up.
This article was originally published in Addicted to Noise.