In spite of his reputation as a showboating funster, Ben Folds has always made music haunted by death, regret, and the ghosts of the past. At their best, Folds' projects deftly balance the contrasting elements of his deceptively complex musical persona, juggling broad comedy and poignant drama, wackiness and heart-rending earnestness, narratives and first-person songs about romantic relationships in varying stages of decay. But the delicate alchemy of Folds' formula went completely haywire on Has Been, the album he co-wrote and produced for William Shatner last year. Shatner's cultishly adored comeback album speaks volumes about Folds' duality. He's wacky enough to perversely engage in an album-length collaboration with a non-singing walking punchline like Shatner, and moody enough to fill said album with songs permeated by grief, mortality, and aging.
Folds seems to have exorcised his predilection for bad taste and tackiness with Has Been; his latest album is wholly devoid of the borderline novelty songs that marred previous efforts. But bad taste isn't always bad, and good taste isn't always good. Even "Jesusland" opts out of the sledgehammer satire seemingly promised by its title, instead favoring a delicate, impressionistic journey through the heart of the Bible Belt. But while Songs For Silverman never reaches the valleys of Folds' other albums, it never reaches their giddy peaks either. Instead, it settles into a solid middle ground. An underrated literate songwriter, Folds has previously shown a gift for composing songs that play like great short stories, conjuring up moments and moods in a small space. But Silverman's story-songs feel like rough drafts, and its first-person relationship songs come off like letters or diary entries: spare, direct, and mainly of interest to those involved.
Silverman's songs linger prettily on tiptoes without making much of an impression one way or another. The album certainly has its moments, though they tend to be good rather than transcendent. "Elliott, man, you played a fine guitar / And some dirty basketball," Folds sings affectionately on "Late," a refreshingly understated Elliott Smith tribute that wisely steers clear of teary melodrama in favor of an offhanded matter-of-factness that's much more resonant and poignant. But elsewhere, Folds remains tasteful to a fault, and while Songs For Silverman is arguably his most mature work to date it's almost indisputably his most middle-aged album, which isn't an entirely positive development.