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Exit Sandman

Morphine—the narcotic—is highly addictive, euphoric, and suppresses anxiety. With The Night, Morphine—the band—has made an album deserving of this definition. Their final album (lead singer Mark Sandman died in July 1999), it is the best summary of the unique sound Morphine has pioneered over the past eight years. They make up for the absence of a lead guitar by using a total of 21 instruments, among which are the hand drum, tri-tar, and horse-hair piano; this creates a curiously mellow and deeply sensual mix of jazz and rock. Sandman once said in an interview that their deep sound has a physical effect on all people "who aren't dead from the waist down," and having heard this album, one has to agree. Sandman sings in an intimate baritone (some call Morphine "growl rock") that stands in sharp contrast to the high tenor voices of today's most popular radio artists.

Although The Night is classified under both rock and jazz headings in most music stores, neither term accurately describes the album. One of the most memorable tracks, "Like a Mirror," is composed almost entirely of percussion, with a bizarre interlude that can be described only as a jazz variation on the ubiquitous cobra-charming flute melody, which appears in several tracks. The title track is a slow drawl of a song which sedates with a combination of deep bass slides and lyrics like, "Here I stand I'm all alone/Drive me down the pitch black road/Lilah, you're the only home/And I can't make it on my own." Certainly then, each track has a distinct personality, but The Night's overall strength is its unity; the songs flow gently into one another with nearly seamless transitions. Absorbed as a whole, the album is a 50-minute out-of-body experience. By the time the final track closes, there is a strangely euphoric sense of sedation. The only question is, can you summon the energy to press the play button again? Like the opiate from which the band drew its name, the music is addictive. And wonderfully so. (Rykodisk)

—Aislinn Goodman

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