Within the first six or seven minutes of Divine Providence, you know what’s up with Deer Tick. “I got a lust for life and a dangerous mind,” screeches John McCauley on “The Bump”, Divine Providence’s opening track. The chorus of choice? “We’re full-grown men but we act like kids.” I was immediately drawn to the album because of the earnest, raucous imperfection of “The Bump” that recalled Deer Tick’s earlier albums, especially 2007’s War Elephant. What I found instead throughout the rest of Divine Providence was a drunken, apathetic “fuck you” to both genre and audience.
McCauley’s signature croak and the rest of the band’s rowdy instrumentals are the cornerstones of Deer Tick’s success among fans, not to mention that their Providence, Rhode Island roots are a point of pride for many New Englanders. War Elephant, arguably Deer Tick’s finest album, showcases the band’s sense of refined storytelling that weaves itself in and out of their goofy, unpolished rock. On Divine Providence, though, Deer Tick no longer really cares whether we like their music and message or not. This bravado could theoretically work well, but in the absence of anthems to back up the attitude, Divine Providence falls flat.
Nearly everything on this album concerns booze, the highlight track being—big surprise—“Let’s All Go to the Bar.” Declares McCauley, “I don’t care if you puke in my ride, baby, just as long as you take your piss outside.” I was looking forward to a gin-soaked jam I could blast with all the windows down. Deer Tick instead ends up sounding like The Ramones with a little sprinkle of Kenny Chesney, and the song could be a soft cover of Black Flag’s “Gimme Gimme Gimme” or “TV Party.”
As for the songwriting in Divine Providence, I’m not really sure where to begin. On War Elephant’s “Long Time,” McCauley crooned, “Thank god I never lost you, you lost me/And I’m as hollow as the heart that fell to my feet/And I believe there’s a way to shut the things you don’t need out.” His heartbreaking gift for storytelling dissipates on Divine Providence, giving way to songs like “Chevy Express” that show Deer Tick at its absolute worst. Need a sample? “That kid was cute, that kid ate fruit/Then that kid was found in a blanket.” “Walkin’ Out the Door,” “Make Believe” and “Electric” are all just as lyrically banal, and unimaginative instrumentally. Maybe there were moments of unoriginality on War Elephant, but Deer Tick was goofier and just a little bit more diffident then, so these moments aren’t the ones I will remember.
Are there highlights? For sure. On “Clownin’ Around,” despite its name, Deer Tick approaches solemn introspection as best they can on this album. “Something to Brag About” is one of the few songs I’ll revisit from Divine Providence, and I’ll give the lusty “Miss K.” another try. Deer Tick tries out political/social commentary on “Main Street” (“Miss one speech and you’re uninformed to tears”) and “Chevy Express” (“Drugs and terror, which one’s better/Mother nature’s waging a war”). Over the course of almost fifty minutes, though, there’s no tie that binds except Deer Tick’s apparent lack of enthusiasm.
I bought the album for $9.99 on iTunes instead of stealing it online only because I’ve seen Deer Tick live and I think they’re incredibly talented and entertaining. After listening to Divine Providence, though, I feel like I intruded on something Deer Tick didn’t want me to be a part of. They probably would have rather taken the ten dollars (or whatever profit they’re actually making) and used it as toilet paper. By the fifth song, I couldn’t wait for the album to end. “When you close that door behind you, I’ll carry on feeling no regrets,” sings McCauley on “Make Believe.” Clearly, the feeling was mutual: Deer Tick didn’t give a shit whether I stayed or left.
