A quick glance at Mark Lanegan’s CV explains why the American’s voice is so gravelly and world-weary: The man never takes a day off. The Gutter Twins, Soulsavers, The Twilight Singers, and Queens of the Stone Age have all released albums in the last two years with his name in the credits. That’s without mentioning his own impressive solo work and Mercury-nominated debut Ballad of the Broken Seas with Isobel Campbell. This, the pair’s second collaborative album, sticks with the same dynamic as was perfected on the first: Lanegan plays the devil on your right shoulder, while Campbell acts as his foil, crooning like an angel on the left. It so happens that this outing is a good deal more immorally minded than the first. Rarely does Campbell step from underneath Lanegan’s Cohen-esque tones to sing solo, quite strange since she wrote, arranged and produced the album.
Having Lanegan play master of ceremonies, however, is a wise decision on her part. Her compositions are not always the most memorable, whereas her partner’s distinct vocal style compels you to sit up and listen, commanding respect as a man who has quite obviously smoked more cigarettes, broke more hearts and, well, made more albums in a month than you’ll ever manage in your whole life. Thus the Campbell-crooned Shotgun Blues falls on its repetitious slide-guitar arse, while the Lanegan-led The Raven dominates the opening of the album.
The main undoing of Sunday at Devil Drive comes with its fifth track Come On Over (Turn Me On). Quite plainly outweighing every other song on the album it begs the question: Why didn’t you just put out an EP? The album fades into superfluity after the seventh song The Flame That Burns, and doesn’t pick back up. The string-laden 50’s pop-perfection of Come On Over (Turn Me On) allows a glimpse of the sexual chemistry the pair can put into their music, so seductive that the rest of the album sounds thoroughly frigid (including former twee queen Campbell lyrically jumping down your trousers on Shotgun Blues). Tagging on three of the songs here firmly the Quite Good category, like Seafaring Song, The Raven and Who Built The Road to it would have made a strong EP release. Instead we’re left with an LP with all the stamina of a laneway quickie (and with the same brevity of romance). Ironically, it’s not Lanegan who has spread himself too thin here, but the comparatively idle Campbell.
