From Steely Dan to Circus Money
Akin to our much-touted government rebate checks, Circus Money arrives at a time when a depressed music industry is in dire need of stimulus. The checks, say some pundits, have given the U.S. economy a booster shot in its atrophied arm. But what about Walt’s coinage? Can it rouse the music-buying public? In other words, is Circus Money, money?
The short answer is, yes, especially if you groove on reggae. In recent years, Becker, who resides in Hawaii and freely tapped its island vibe on 11TOW, immersed himself in the tasty sonic waves of Jamaica’s second most popular export. By alchemizing elements from this Caribbean crucible, he and producer/co-writer Larry Klein minted a fine collection of material, albeit one that’s a discernable departure from the Steely Dan jazz-rock oeuvre.
Walt does, however, remain faithful to the great unwashed parade of losers, freaks, hipsters and sleazoids who populate his earlier work. In “Downtown Canon,” for instance, breezy guitar marks time for the story of a dude whose best gal dumps him for “a half-crazed painter fool” she picks up in a bar. By the end of the tune, he’s “packed up the Dylan and the Man Ray and the Joyce” and is “leaving with all I need but less than I deserve.” In “Somebody’s Saturday Night,” lidded prowlers are “slouched in a booth Pamela’s Pistol Dawn/drink drink cigarette talkie talk drink drink smoke smoke cigarette.” Business as usual in Beckertown.
More to Circus Money to Review
So, musically, Walt’s drifted off on a tropical tangent; lyrically, he’s kept his dinghy tethered to familiar shores. But what about musicianship, the third component crucial for appraising a new Walter Becker album?
Much less finicky than he was 30 years ago, Becker appreciates the merits of recording with a small cadre of trusted players. The heart of Circus Money features road-tested members of Steely Dan’s touring band: Keith Carlock on drums, Jon Herington on guitar and Ted Baker on piano/keyboards. Walt plays bass on all but one track, takes solo guitar on three and rhythm guitar on two. The band is fluid, lucid and loose — just as a reggae-inspired ensemble should be. Their currency is talent, and their wallets are bulging.
Alas, we must mention the two things that might break the Circus Money bank for some. First, it is a de facto reggae album; if you’re not into that, you won’t be into this. Second, as some have said of Steely Dan, “I like them. I just wish they didn’t sing.” Yeah, Becker’s voice, like long-time partner Donald Fagen’s, can be a deal-breaker. It’s smooth, even soulful, but, like poi and fried Spam, it’s an acquired taste.
Circus Money: The Conclusion
Those of you who raised your hands at the beginning of this piece were waiting for Walt — and you’ll revel in your Circus Money infusion a la Demi Moore in Indecent Proposal. The rest of you may see it like your rebate check: It’s a nice gesture but it don’t amount to much. If you're in this latter group, give your cash a chance to work for you. In lieu of three gallons of unleaded, buy Circus Money. You’ll get a lot more mileage out of it and you might just learn to love the ride.
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