9.5

To think that there would be any circumstances in which something this good would not be released on purpose should be enough to convince you to lose all hope in major record labels (if you haven’t already). While it hasn’t been specified why EMI is blocking the release of Danger Mouse and Sparklehorse’s Dark Night of the Soul, one could only guess that they’re actually still angry about The Gray Album. Will labels never learn? I bet the clueless, soulless suit behind this decision is the same guy who told Radiohead to quit music after he heard In Rainbows.

To begin, everything about this album was already incredible a year and a half ago. Still think they should have gone with either a Sparklemouse or Dangerhorse mash-up for the name, but that is my only complaint of Mark Linkous and Brian Burton’s magnificent Dark Night of the Soul. The album is truly a piece of art - in more of a way than any recent album has been - what with its gallery installations and David Lynch photography. It’s also become yet another rebellious statement by Danger Mouse (he once replaced Paris Hilton albums in record stores with remix decoys that read “Thou shalt not worship false idols”), whose blank CDR method is a practical middle finger to the very idea of the record label.

The extra press is not needed. When I listen to this album, I hear the spirit of artists as prominent as The Beatles and as obscure as Morcheeba (or some other, more obscure artist of that vein). Even with the scattered vocal guest appearances and vast array of sounds and ideas, the record still manages to play like a flowing, inter-connected whole from beginning to end.

The guest vocalists of DNOTS breathe life into the songs as opposed to sing over them, invoking the aura of their own musical galaxies in such a way that implies that the songs were written for them. Jason Casablancas’ garage rock “Little Girl” and James Mercer’s indie-pop “Insane Lullaby” don’t sound like the Strokes or the Shins per se, but you’re aware without checking a tracklisting that that’s where the voices came from, and oddly comforted by the familiarity of these great bands. Surely, Linkous and Burton were aware of this when putting this project together.

DNOTS is atmospheric at times; introspective, dark, and downright haunting. At others, it’s abrasive, overt, light-hearted, and catchy. Iggy Pop’s slightly satirical “Pain” fits the latter descriptions to the greatest extent, while the flat-out frightening title track fits the former (with the help of David Lynch’s demented, distorted vocals, which he also offers up on album highlight, “Stars Eye”). And dudes, Suzanne Vega is on this album. Remember, “Tom’s Diner?” I knew all the words to that. Not that it would even matter (just having the idea to call her up to be a part of this project is marvelous enough), but her track, “The Man Who Played God,” is among the album’s best.

It’s substantially challenging to get through this without singling out every song individually, as they’re all so distinctly different, and so pertinent to the record as a whole. Each song has a story to tell beyond lyrics or instruments; creating a world of their own that seem to materialize an entire universe of gloomy, obscure, disturbing, washed out images. Conveniently, that’s where David Lynch comes in. It’s no wonder Linkous/Burton called upon the visual master to compliment these recordings, and it’s no wonder that he complied. Not one for doing album covers for indie artists, Lynch’s involvement in this project is more understandable after listening. When the slow, steady creep of the final track comes to a close as Lynch’s nightmare serenade fades, it’s all abundantly clear how necessary he was.

Arguably the best, most inspired album of the year, It’s a dirty shame that label politics have interfered with such a significant release. The situation has proven yet again that labels don’t understand very much when it comes to one pressing aspect of their business.

You know, the music.