How Rick Rubin Destroyed the Avett Brothers

Forget everything you've read about the new Avett Brothers record. Put down that issue of Paste magazine that gives the record a glowing 96 out of 100 review. Ignore the bloggers and music journalists who are acting like the Avetts are some fascinating project from the hills finally earning their due on the national stage. And heed no attention to a few things I said in my last post.

Why? Because the record is not as good as they say. It is hardly an Avett Brothers records at all; it's a pop record. And I blame Rick Rubin.

If you read my last post, you know a little bit of background regarding my love affair with the Avett Brothers. Suffice it to say, I adore them. Their raw energy, their inspired lyrics, their incredible passion for not just the song, but the performance of the song. Especially now that I've relocated to North Carolina, the Avett's home state and a place that is smitten with the fellas, I am overcome with a sort of pride for them, happy to see them garner deserved attention and fans across the country.

But I was a little wary of their working with Rick Rubin on this latest album, I and Love and You. It just didn't smell right. A grassroots band from rural Carolina working with a man who has produced Jay-Z, Justin Timberlake, Metallica, Linkin Park, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers? Didn't add up.

And now, two weeks and several spins through the record later, I've drawn the conclusion that Rubin has in fact destroyed this Avett Brothers record.

Here me out before you start hatin', because I'm not trying to point fingers, nor am I crying foul of the Brothers themselves. I will remain a loyal Avett Brothers fan, and will anxiously anticipate their future work. I'll continue respecting and loving the Brothers, and I'll shrug this album off as a "Could you refuse Rick Rubin?" career hiccup.

But let's boil it down to this fact: This album is not the Avett Brothers.

What makes the Avett Brothers great is their energy, their carelessness, their imprecision. What makes them great is that they don't have to hit the right note, they don't have to be in the right tempo, and they don't have to be squeaky clean. The thing about the Avett Brothers that has earned them fans to this point is that, in their softest of ballads and most rollicking of hum-dingers, they're always willing to take a chance, unconstrained by the boundaries of sensible music-making.

And I and Love and You reverses all of that. It is careful, precise, calculated. It doesn't take any chances, but instead sticks to the Rick Rubin-penned script. It is a pop record.

I'll try not to stick all of the blame on Rubin. Out of my loyalty to them, I'm unwilling to put blame on the Avetts, but the truth is they did write these songs (though I've heard Rubin was instrumental in several of the songs' creation). Honestly, I just want to blame the piano, because more often than not the primary culprit in making me cringe during some of these songs is the daggone keys.

Let's take a step back and look at the situation: Rick Rubin wanted to produce the new Avett Brothers record. They accepted because it was Rick Rubin. They left their old home at Ramseur Records and joined Rubin's "major label" American Recordings (a sensible career choice; gotta pay the bills). The two parties convened, a lighting storm of the Avetts' incredible folksy talent and Rubin's perfected mainstream production skills commenced, and a lovechild byproduct came out the other end that ultimately had mostly Rubin's features instead of the Avetts', so much so that we're left to wonder if Rubin might not have been entirely faithful.

Oops, just used the word "mainstream." I was trying my hardest not to use the words "mainstream" or "sell out." Shoot.

Okay, my mind is wandering. It's late and I'm desperately trying to piece this all together in my head. Truth is, I really don't want to hate this record. I want to love it like I love the rest of the Avett Brothers' material.

Ultimately, after listening to it over and over and over again, I'll boil the record down to this: "I and Love and You," "January Wedding," "Ten Thousand Words," "Laundry Room," and "Tin Man" are great songs that fit perfectly into the Avett arsenal (despite some overly polished production work on a few of them). "Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise," "And It Spread," "Ill With Want," "Slight Figure of Speech," "It Goes On and On," and "Incomplete and Insecure" are pedestrian indie songs at best, a couple of them with some decent hooks.

And "The Perfect Space" and "Kick Drum Heart"? Well, they would be okay if it weren't for the cringe-inducing piano that sounds like it was pre-programmed onto a toy Cassio. Honestly Rick Rubin, what's the deal? These boys can rock, and you've reduced them to some tinkling toy piano? Where's the banjo?!

I'll conclude with this plea to the Avett Brothers: Don't become the next Kings of Leon. Don't be awesome and then succumb to the desires of a mainstream audienece, letting them make you very un-awesome. The fans deserve better.

Ditch Rick Rubin.