From the start, Dark Night of the Soul was different. See, when a group of well-established music-makers get together for those mightiest of collaborations known as ’supergroups’, the result is usually either an unbaked mush of ideas (goddamn Chickenfoot) or an affirmation of form — a reminder that, oh, yeah, this bunch of folks can still enjoy a jam (see: Monsters of Folk, Them Crooked Vultures). A secretive project putting a gaggle of wonderful vocalists, high-strung alt-rocker Mark Linkous of Sparklehorse and subtly dark producer Brian Burton aka Danger Mouse in cahoots with film visionary David Lynch, though, couldn’t be the usual shit-shooting in the recording studio. Something seismic was expected from precedence alone.

In the summer of ‘09, when the album’s release was canned, expectations were cooled significantly. With Linkous’s suicide this March, they were understandably practically erased. Now it’s officially out on the street, almost wounded, darkness in tow, and with a wide range of singers and sporadic sounds, the album (surprisingly) eulogizes its troubled history. Instead of wallowing in murk, it manages to soar.

The majority of the album itself is Danger Mouse’s specialty: loaded and orchestral-backed pop, slow, thematically-heavy songs that are simultaneously juxtaposed and buoyed by comfortably warped anthems (with especially juicy percussion this time around). What elevates this from his other work, though, is clearly Linkous’ before-unseen lyrical focus. Paired with sunny-day melodies and far-off choirs, concise phrases like, “Please/ please/ sun/ shine”, from the swirling robotic lullaby “Star Eyes (I Can’t Catch It)”, disarm to a point of awe. Only when the album tries to shift into high gear do its weaknesses appear. As purposeful as your angularity may have been, here’s looking at you, “Pain”.

Still, one off-track is far from what’s needed to derail this one-way ticket to a secluded section of the mind, with all the other songs serving up the best dynamics, distortion use, and build showcased by either of the composing musicians yet, a fact driven home by the album’s near-commercial-nonexistence. Far from a casualty of those legal slap-fights of record label lore, though, Dark Night of the Soul can now inhabit the realm it rightly deserves: a tender, if not bittersweet, dedication to a guiding light lost to the fog that we stumble through, and a superb work of collaborative art in its own right.

Rest in peace, Mark.

[4.5/5.0]

MP3s: