By Adam Lovinus
By Lilledeshan Bose
By Gabriel San Roman
By Rachel Mattice
By Stephanie Zacharek
By Daniel Kohn
By Nate Jackson
By Mike Seeley
God, I really hate it when I'm wrong. So a few years ago, a friend burned me a copy of My Morning Jacket's 2003 album It Still Moves. But much to his horror (and disgust), I hated it. Or I guess "hate" isn't so much the word for it as "really-didn't-care-for-it-at-all." Looking back, I'm not sure how I could have resisted songs like the scratchy ascending guitar-picking melodies of "One Big Holiday" and the extreme reverb of the wonderfully haunting (oh, such a thing exists) "Golden." (It also makes for a good drunk sing-along sort of song. Just in case you were wondering.)
Now flash-forward to a couple of years later: passenger side in the same friend's car, and this song with this infectious bubbly reggae tempo comes on. A kind of familiar voice sang: "Well I really don't need the confusion/And you know I just ain't the type/To get all wrapped up in the illusion/Of doing something that I know ain't right/Right, right, right right?"
To which I said, "Holy shit. (Shit, shit?)" Then the next track came on: "What a Wonderful Man." From the bouncy piano intro to the loud chorus that just begs for—yup—another booze-filled sing-along, I was entranced. That's when he smugly told me I was listening to and enjoying My Morning Jacket. And then I believed.
My Morning Jacket have been praised for their stirring live shows—music bloggers unanumously agreed that their sets at X, Y and Z summer festivals were hands down the best. And judging merely by the squillion videos that popped up on YouTube (they're that amazing—seriously!), I believed.
Be sure to show up early enough to catch opener Elvis Perkins (who has toured with local sorta-kinda celeb Matt Costa), another blog favorite, but not one of those annoyingly trendy ones. Recently signed to XL Recordings—home to indie faves the Raconteurs, Devendra Banhart, M.I.A. and more—Perkins' lingering and thoughtful songs boast both catchy-but-dismal melodies and lyrics of substance.