Well, Max McNown has certainly come a long way from “Same Questions” and “Turns Into Missing You.” For listeners craving the tear-stained honesty and deceptively detailed storytelling of tracks like “Cost of Growing Up,” there are slim pickings on his latest project, Leave on a Light. McNown excels when burdened by introspection and loneliness, and here he has little of either. Further, his audience is once again left with only a handful of tracks worth spinning on repeat. However, there may be good reason for that: the young man seems content with his life.
That said, if there is one thing McNown has, it’s consistency. On every album, he manages to land two or three noteworthy songs amid the clamor of the rest, and Leave on a Light is no exception. “Slow Down, Slow Down,” “Famous to You,” and “Something to Someone” are this album’s keepers. They follow a simple formula that lays the groundwork for a sound he has conquered: kind, happy-go-lucky vocals over folky stomp-clap rhythms that belong in a coming-of-age movie, wrapped in a subtle twang and the lush layering of several guitars. Unfortunately, the lack of ingenuity in this specific project also breeds a sameness that’s difficult to overlook. The album as a whole is primarily led by a hollow drumbeat, which carries his vocals along the same predictable current, a slow build into a faster tempo.
It’s an approach that works well at projecting the “good guy” persona he projects through his ever-present smiles and odes to his marriage. In fact, the album is a testament to where he stands in his personal life today, and for that it deserves some praise.
The trouble is that these three standout songs are built from the same parts, so the record never becomes more than the sum of one standout sound.
After a single listen, you’ll have no question that Max loves his wife and his life. In a world that lately elevates voices of constant drudgery, many of them berating the opposite sex, these tracks make for accessible, enjoyable listening. “Famous to You” is the strongest showing of all these qualities working together.
All that aside, the album is diatonic and safe, forgoing experimentation in favor of a single sound. In every song, he stretches his vocal range across the same narrow capacity, so the tracks begin to blur together. There are no real shifts in tempo and little variation in execution. The rhyme schemes are simple, the melodies are quick, with little risk.
At times, the lyrics follow the same pattern, with fragmented descriptors that say a whole lot of nothing. “Isn’t That Love” is a prime example, with three-quarters of the song being just the chorus.
McNown missed an opportunity to slow things down. Stripped-back ballads, especially melodically, would have broken the album apart and let each track’s distinct qualities show, all while keeping the project cohesive. A few songs in the vein of “The Room” would have done it.
Still, the formula appears to work for a certain demographic of 40-year-olds with a taste for a good beat and corny rom-coms. While it has served him well over the course of his career, this may be the last time it proves fruitful, which could open the door to a different creative direction than we’ve seen.
