THE CULTURE GYRE 

BY: Ian Sherry

5/29/23

On May 5, 2023 Durand Jones released Wait Til I Get Over.

Over the past five years Durand Jones & The Indications have been making great music. Their 2018 debut self titled album is great, their 2019 American Love Call is easily my favorite contemporary soul album, and their 2021 Private Space is a stylistic swerve done the right way. Now, we get Durand Jones’ first solo album. This doesn’t signal the end of the band. No, Jones made it clear on several occasions leading into his 2023 release that it was a deeply personal project, one that he needed to do himself. 

 

Durand Jones’ lack of Indications both intrigued and concerned me. The Indications thrive because of three general strengths (outside of Durand Jones): songwriting, consistently strong musical performances, and Aaron Frazer. Without the rest of his band, could Jones replicate these strengths? After all, the best bands’ songwriting is often a group effort, The Beatles or Queen for example, and Jones is just one man. That throwback sound the band revitalizes in such a refreshing way is difficult to capture, and attempting to recreate that same magic without them would be difficult. Aaron Frazer is The Indications' secret weapon, whose occasional lead vocals provide a great deal of variety, and whose help on choruses or ensemble vocal performances with Jones solidifies the uniqueness of the band's sound. Frazer is absent from this project. However, that was the point, and any of the resulting missteps on Wait Til I Get Over were a part of the calculated risk Durand Jones took going solo this year. So now, the results of his risk:

 

Frankly, I have lots of critiques to roll out, but I'd like to start on a positive note. I love Aaron Frazer, and I was hoping for at least a feature from him; but he’s not needed. Durand Jones is a dynamic vocalist, able to carry nearly any tune and elevate even the most instrumentally bland music. Without that, this album would really struggle, lucky for Jones he can sing. Actually, he’s not lucky, just good. It's easy to say so, considering the songwriting on this album may be his strongest yet. Detailing the struggles of his people in the South and his own internal journey, Jones does a great job of using themes like community to fuel feelings like hope for a well-rounded yet fittingly unfinished narrative.

 

While the narrative is cohesive, the stylistic choices are not. On the first three songs, Jones touches on three very different sounds. This can be done really well, but in this case it feels disjointed. “Gerri Marie” is a solid intro that sets a scene and vibe with Durand Jones and a piano. That’s it, but its simplicity is its strength. However, post the first interlude (track 2), this vibe is deleted by “Lord Have Mercy”. A jaunty sort of Bayou Rock song, it’s the first of a new Durand Jones sound, one that needs a lot of work. It effectively introduces the most unfortunate recurring theme of this album: poor instrumental production and vocal mixing. The instrumental layering is cluttered and a weird buzzy finish lays over everything, including Jones’ vocals. Yet, on the very next track, “Sadie”, Jones temporarily abandons his theme of musical mediocrity. It is a strong song in every way. Great hooks, choruses, and instrumental backing and breaks, it has all the makings of an Indications classic. So why not make that a theme?

 

I think a look at track 5 can answer that question. "I Want You” is another Indications-worthy track musically, as well as a Jones masterclass vocally. He mixes in powerful background vocals at just the right moments and spoken pieces mid-verse, two things seldom seen, if ever, with his band. He is in his creative zone, stretching his attention to every aspect of the sound he wants to encapsulate. But, stretch is the key word. For the length of the song, every couple beats, there is a strange crashing sound. It's some sort of percussion, and it should have been any other kind of percussion, as keeping pace seems to be its sole purpose. But he chose this sound. A decision that doesn’t ruin the song completely, but one that, along with an occasionally jumbled bottom to the mix and an instrumental layering failure down the stretch of the song, can remove a distracted listener from the otherwise powerful tune. Durand Jones is a member of a great band, and great bands don’t let things like that slip through the cracks, but once again, he is just one man.

 

These seemingly careless miscues continue through the album, and honestly, highlighting all of them is trivial. From the drowning of a strong communal vocal performance on “Wait Til I Get Over” to the alarmingly unfit feature on “Someday We’ll All Be Free” or the failure to catch a groove on “Letter To My 17 Year Old Self”, Jones misses opportunities to properly support his beautiful writing and vocal performances. However, he does not miss on “That Feeling”.

 

Durand Jones is a bisexual black man from the South. That means both everything and nothing to this song. To my knowledge, it’s the first time he sings about another man, and he does so against that backdrop he spent so much time constructing. However, as he eases into this particular narrative, everything fades away. It doesn’t matter who he is speaking to, it’s beautiful. A story of wasted potential, told through a nostalgic lens, with that familiar hope and determination, “That Feeling” is love. It’s also the best song on the album. With raw vocals and a classic instrumental intro, Jones eases into the rhythm just as he does the narrative. Layering keys and guitar, he elevates the sound to the highest point of the album in stride with his words, before stripping it down to deliver a message: he and the love inside him aren't going anywhere. With the message delivered and the love story completed, Jones takes the last minutes to elevate one more time, leaving the audience with a powerful combination image and sound.

 

Jones thrives in simplicity on this album, “Secrets” is a good final example. A piano and some voices are all he needed to close his 2023 release. Waves crash against a shore for the last two minutes, washing away the song and this, simply put, unique album. I hope it's unique for several reasons. First, Durand Jones is better than this. But, on top of that, he needed to get something out of his system. For his sake, I like to think he’s satisfied that need, at least enough to clean up any remaining loose ends with The Indications (in more ways than one). 

 

This album is messy. The production and mixing are scarily bad at times, as if he needed a reminder that the old days are supposed to be represented by the narrative, not the sound equipment. Jones also struggles to hitch a stylistic ride all the way through. This is fine for an EP, but for an album with a decisive theme, flow is essential. Yet, while it's easy to nitpick my way through this album, it's also easy to get lost in what Jones does well. He is an exceptional songwriter, a skill rivaled only by his vocal abilities. Those two strengths specifically can carry an album, and this is certainly one of those cases. I love Durand Jones, I am excited to see what he does next, and I believe the worst he can do is average. This album, all things considered, is just average.

Wait Til I Get Over is a 5.25/10.