[rating=5]
Throughout the entirety of Ben Sollee’s second solo album, Inclusions, there’s a struggle waged between genre, between metaphor and the literal, between engaging and utterly distancing. Over the course of the album’s eleven tracks, Sollee presents music that jumps between traditional pop/folk and atonal structures with the ease and whimsy of a single chord, revealing Inclusions’ central investigation of aesthetic pollination. If anything, it appears that Sollee desires to question the experience of listening to and identifying with music. Is it even right to divide this piece of work into distinct pieces (eleven to make a whole)? Is it possible that we’ve stuck ourselves into a paradigm so fully rooted in the conventional album that seeing outside that framework is both unpleasurable and wholly foreign? Does “experimental” actually signify anything concrete or lasting?
These questions are essential to both the producer and consumer of music, for they throw into focus our own prejudices, assumptions and inclinations. Introspection and the ensuing process of defining our relationship to art (and how we believe art functions and exists) is critical if one endeavors to connect deeply with it. Thus it’s exciting to see Sollee create an album that hopes to inspire such an approach. Inclusions, though, falls far short of that mark, meandering (and sometimes crashing) into the territory of eccentric without charm, tangential without foundation. There are strong moments, but they never last over the course of an entire song, and this is where Sollee’s attempt at employing a wide variety of musical genres and traditions breaks down. Experimental with purpose is commendable on sheer artistic grounds, but Inclusions doesn’t appear to have an express intention; rather, it comes across as fairly confused.
Ben Sollee is characterized as a classically trained pop cellist, which is unusual in and of itself, but is neither paradoxical nor problematic. There haven’t been many cellists who have built a career around their instrument while situated in the pop realm. Instead, those who have risen to widespread acclaim generally exist outside the pop/folk world, using the cello as a catalyst to renegotiate the way music is constructed and executed. Experimental rock group Rasputina, solo luminary Zoë Keating or Finnish metal band Apocalyptica all come to mind, but nowhere does Sollee appear to have much in common with those outfits. Actually, much of Inclusions is spent masking the cello, shying away from its top-billed position by obscuring its sound or simply removing it all together. Four of the songs don’t include cello whatsoever, and on many that do, guitars and percussion rise way above the stringed instrument. Thus, a bit of a perceived existential crisis and conundrum is not only noticeable but pressing. If Sollee continues to be marketed as an inventive, boundary-pushing pop cellist, why, on only his second solo record, is there so little of his trademark?
The album opens with “Introduction,” a cacophonous yet joyous thirty-second piece inspired by a Spanish field recording. It’s a throwback to earlier times, Lomax-ian in approach and delivery, yet it lacks a certain oomph that comes from focus. Focus, in this case, doesn’t indicate restraint or limitations, but rather a specific message carried through in a way that inhabits elation but also connection to an audience. The following track, “Close to You,” has a great bluesy feeling, with a nylon string guitar and bass playing against strong drums, laying down a solid beat and giving the song movement. But, then, in the chorus, wind instruments burst forth and the song modulates into augmented and diminished chords, breaking the rock blues and ostensibly thrusting it into the avant-garde, but it is just irritating. Opening the album with such discord acts as an announcement that Inclusions isn’t a cello record– in fact, it’s not even a pop-focused, cello-driven record. It’s not until “Embrace,” the fifth track, that there seems to be any cello line worthy of Sollee’s ability. For an artist who clearly has a lot to offer and the capacity with which to do so, it’s frustrating to see him sink under the attempt at making something radically new, because he hasn’t yet figured out what he wants to say– just that he doesn’t want to say it in the way you hope he will.
Sollee hits upon some great melodies, harmonies and moments of beauty and excellence on Inclusions. “Embrace” is elegant, haunting and utterly stunning, verging on Radiohead-esque trance-like beauty. His work alongside vocalist Cheyenne Marie Mize on “Captivity” and “I Need” is appealing and engrossing. And many of Sollee’s lyrics are outstanding. Unfortunately, it’s as if the listener isn’t able to get into any one groove on Inclusions, but rather be tossed from port to starboard, sometimes overboard, by swerving pathways and thwarted hopes. In the effort to make something that pushes the boundaries of his artistry, Sollee ventured too far into the territory of alienation without giving the listener enough to make them come back for more.
