My Morning Jacket: Put Us In, Coach (Part 1 of 2)

An edited version of this featured appeared previously in SPIN.

“Music is the invisible architecture that holds up the universe,” says Jim James. Leader, rhythm guitarist, singer and songwriter with rockers My Morning Jacket. He’s had more than a quarter-century to develop that inspiring philosophy. It works for him, and for his band. My Morning Jacket recently completed work on the idiosyncratically titled is, due March 21 from ATO Records. And the new album’s “invisible architecture” is the product of a deliberate departure from the band’s customary way of working.

My Morning Jacket’s self-titled 2021 release earned enthusiastic reviews, but that in itself was little surprise; the Louisville, Kentucky group has long been a darling of fans and critics alike. As with every MMJ album since 2001’s At Dawn, the record was created with James in the producer’s chair. That approach suited the self-contained band well, and by all accounts James’ skilled production work portrayed his band’s music in its best possible light. With that history behind them, there wouldn’t have seemed to be any reason to change working methods as the band began what would become is.

But they did. James says that in recent times, he’s been doing a fair amount of self-work, “trying to be a more peaceful person, trying to love myself in a way that isn’t based on external validation.” What that meant in practice is that for the first time, he was open to working with someone outside the band to produce a new My Morning Jacket record.

James landed on Brendan O’Brien. The Atlanta-born producer got his start in the ‘80s, producing local bands like high-concept pranksters The Coolies. He quickly earned a reputation as the go-to producer for acts on a shoestring budget. O’Brien scored his first high-profile engineering gig with Black Crowes’ 1990 debut Shake Your Money Maker; that success led to work with a dazzling array of top names including Red Hot Chili Peppers, Stone Temple Pilots, Aerosmith, Paul Westerberg, Neil Young, Matthew Sweet, Pearl Jam, Bruce Springsteen, AC/DC and countless more. For artists who want an authentic and honest rendering of their sound, O’Brien is a first-call choice.

In theory, My Morning Jacket working with O’Brien seemed like a good pairing. In practice, however, if and how a collaboration would actually work remained to be seen. James concedes that typically when he works with an engineer or co-producer, they’re somebody “who’s on our same level.” O’Brien, of course, is a respected heavyweight. What the group quickly discovered is that with My Morning Jacket, O’Brien would take on a role James describes as “a coach. He’s more of a mentor,” he says.

At the stage of the project in which O’Brien was brought in, a coach is exactly what the band needed. “We had already done two full sessions of songs,” James admits. “We were beating our heads against the wall, and we weren’t really happy with the way it was going.” Yet he and his band mates were initially wary of opening the door to an outside force. “Because these people usually bring in a lot of ego,” James says.

The band was pleased to find that O’Brien didn’t fit that preconceived notion. “He’s fun to be around, and he’s a kind person,” James says. “All he cares about are the songs.”

James brought a bounty of songs to the sessions – more than 100, he says – drawing both from songs written specifically for My Morning Jacket and from a cache of tunes originally set aside for use on his own solo work. “We had a mountain of songs,” James says. “I told myself, ‘Let’s do this exercise of letting go; let’s just see which songs Brendan likes.’” James says that thanks to that previously-mentioned internal work, his self-worth isn’t dependent on the approval of others, so he was content to let O’Brien make song choices. “I thought, ‘It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t like song X or song Y; I can always work on those some other time.’”

In contrast to the jam-band side of the group’s character, the ten songs on is are tightly structured, economical, supremely melodic pieces. Not a single one of the tracks breaks the five-minute mark, and the music never meanders. O’Brien “is not a big improv or jam guy,” James explains. So when songs that James brought revealed themselves as “10-minute explorations,” they didn’t make the cut for what was shaping up to be a concise and sharply-focused set. James nonetheless stands by those rejected songs, suggesting that they may well turn up on a future My Morning Jacket or solo album, “with another producer.”

Some of the music on is has origins in the distant past. The composition of “Half a Lifetime” dates from My Morning Jacket’s breakthrough fourth studio album, Z. “It’s a song we had completely forgotten about, because we never made a rough mix of it at the time,” James says. “I was digging through old hard drives and found it; Brendan ended up liking it and picking it.”

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