I could well be wrong, but I don’t imagine Rhode Island’s Deer Tick have a particularly large British audience. In fact, you’ll be hard pressed to find even a passing mention of them in any of our press. Their roots-rock schtick, however, is a formula tried, tested and taken to the limits in some parts of their native country, where one imagines songs about beer are akin to ‘Imagine’, but that’s not to say there isn’t anything worthwhile to be heard, especially in the lyricism of their dynamite frontman John McCauley.
Negativity starts off promisingly. ‘The Rock’ kicks off proceedings with an altogether dirge-y intro, before roaring into life with a galloping rhythm section, pained lyricism and, somewhat jarringly, trumpet parps. It’s certainly got a different feel to anything heard on previous Deer Tick output, however, and risk-taking can only be applauded in this day & age. ‘The Curtain’ continues down the roots road, showcasing dustbin-dirty riffs amid a rolling blues progression, and it’s easy to revel in the whiskey-soaked Americana of it all.
Such a shame then, that after a deuce of tracks designed to turn heavy drinkers into heavy thinkers, we’re fobbed off with ‘Just Friends’, a track that hugs the middle of the road more than my mother on the motorway. A ballad that talks of “a couple of gents, swept into the dustbin”, it fails to travel anywhere remotely exciting or, for that matter, anywhere emotional at all. The record continues to sag with ‘The Dream’s In The Ditch’, as the record tries to cover some more fresh ground with a bar-band piano breakdown that only sounds forced, half-baked and stuck on, perhaps for fear of being typecast as the roughhousing delinquents of ‘Let’s All Go To The Bar’ forevermore.
McCauley has spoken of how Negativity is a vehicle for a more directly personal approach to his songwriting, and it’s probably fair to say that ‘Mr. Sticks’ captures this most creatively. The frontman’s grizzled voice lends a country-rock vibe to anything he sings, but ‘Mr. Sticks’ strays slightly from that path to deliver a brooding and atmospheric take on the father-son relationship. With a bridge section made for those lighters-in-the-air moments, by all accounts rare at typically raucous Deer Tick shows, it’s certainly an album highlight.
Elsewhere, ‘Trash’ mixes upbeat highway-blues with reflective lyrics (“I wanna fall in love again”), while ‘Thyme’ sees the welcome vocal repatriation of drummer boy Dennis Ryan, whose turn on Divine Providence‘s ‘Clownin’ Around’ was an album highlight, and a dirty gut-wrenching solo. At the back end of the record, ‘In Our Time’ features McCauley’s new love Vanessa Carlton and provides the only true hillbilly moment (not to be completely disregarded), and ‘Pot Of Gold’ in turn throws up the first out and out rocker, in which a very American alt. rock chorus tempers verses with more than a touch of the transatlantic’s about them.
Deer Tick seem to be a charming bunch, and it’s warming to know that McCauley’s had some issues and come out the other side. The honest, brittle delivery of the words on Negativity allows the record to sidestep mopey, narcissistic pitfalls, and there’s enough merit in some of the more rebel-rousing numbers to warrant repeat listens. However, there’s no denying that Deer Tick are travelling well-worn roads and, as with some of the weaker moments on the record, you’re left wondering where else they could go.
