Rhapsody Reviews: Dave Matthews Band

Big Whiskey and the GrooGrux King, the Dave Matthews Band's first album in nearly four years, had the potential to be their darkest to date, easily surpassing the brooding "Lillywhite Sessions" (which saw the light of day in the form of 2002's Busted Stuff). The primary reason for this is the tragic death of sax guru LeRoi Moore in August 2008, when the group was in the initial stages of recording Big Whiskey. Moore was more than just Matthews' bandmate. A dear friend, as well as a talented songwriter and arranger, Moore was the band's heart and soul. But instead of mourning his passing with a set of moody adult contemporary pop, Matthews decided to celebrate his fallen pal with what might just be the hardest rock set of his group's 18-year career.

All this is evident right from the get-go. Big Whiskey's cover, created by Matthews himself, depicts an exotic, Mardi Gras-like celebration -- half funeral procession, half joyous parade. The centerpiece is a banner containing the saxophonist's visage. With his gaping mouth and a crown perched atop his gnarled dreads, Moore is the celebrated GrooGrux King. He is the man, goddammit.

Then there's the music itself. Big Whiskey opens with the sound of Moore's wailing horn. It's not at all sentimental, but sassy, smoky and utterly robust. After the instrument climbs to its upper register, the sound gives way to a demented cackle from Moore (a fine slice of studio gimmickry) and the twin axes of Matthews and one of his other old-school friends, collaborator Tim Reynolds, who was last heard on 1998's Before These Crowded Streets. Here, on the second track, "Shake Me Like a Monkey," the group sounds totally amped up, particularly when Matthews shrieks, "I like my coffee with toast and jelly, but I'd rather be licking you from your back to your belly."

Whoa, Dave.

Those big guitars are one of Big Whiskey's big heroes. Recording with modern rock whiz Rob Cavallo (Green Day, My Chemical Romance, Alanis Morissette) inspired Matthews to set aside his trusty acoustic. This gave the band some much-needed heft and could win them a few more supporters, namely those who have always thought the D.M.B. were a bit soft. The tune "Why I Am" even boasts a peppy riff reminiscent of the Knack's power pop classic "My Sharona."

But even though this tune contains some killer guitar work, it's Matthews' words that are most important, as he reveals exactly why Big Whiskey is more celebration than mourning. It's because, you see, he's "still dancing here with the GrooGrux King." In other words, though Moore has left us, he lives on in Matthews' heart. And that's what needs to be embraced.

Now I don't want to imply that Big Whiskey lacks pain or the ability to reflect upon loss. It definitely has its fair share of tender moments, most of which come during the album's middle stretch, from "Lying in the Hands of God" to "Squirm" (excluding, of course, "Why I Am"). But ultimately, Matthews understands that from death emerges life. And so Big Whiskey is a heartfelt sendoff to a fallen comrade wrapped inside the beginnings of a brand-new sound for the Dave Matthews Band.