Review Summary: The Chris Daughtry we've waited 15 years for is finally back.
God damn. If you had told me a few years ago that Chris Daughtry was not only going to revert to his rock roots but also eclipse his earliest work, I would have laughed in your face. 2018's
Cage to Rattle, for its slim parcels of genuinely enjoyable tunes, seemed to be the nail in the coffin for any hope the Daughtry of old would ever make a comeback. Chris Daughtry even had the temerity to hype the album up years in advance as the return to guitar driven bangers fans had been pining for. And when that didn't happen, it was a signal that Daughtry had finally stopped kidding themselves and taken their rightful place among the corpses of all of the late 2000s' other adult contemporary progenitors, including Maroon 5, The Fray, OneRepublic and Lifehouse.
But then they left RCA.
I'd imagine it's generally difficult to surmise the absence of a major label to promote you being a good thing, especially for an aging act struggling to claw its way out of obscurity. But God damn it, leaving RCA was the best thing that could ever happen to Daughtry. In recent interviews, Chris has even alluded to past pressure to satisfy record executives and discard his preferred direction in favor of what might sell. Perhaps his speaking to the ugly truths of the industry isn't quite enough to forgive the sins of
Baptized and
Cage to Rattle, but this album sure as f*ck is. Chris Daughtry sings his ass off for all of
Dearly Beloved's near fifty minute runtime. For the most part, he steps into the role of the sage pandit, not merely commenting on the utter
sh*tshow of the world today ("World on Fire", "The Victim"), but also encouraging the listener to look ahead to brighter days ("Changes Are Coming", "Dearly Beloved").
Despite the obvious wish fulfillment of seeing Chris Daughtry dominate the soundscape,
Dearly Beloved is categorically different from the band's eponymous debut album. As much as I hold that album in high regard to this day, I'm cognizant of the obvious gloss and pop bent its straddled with. Even at the highest points of Daughtry's earliest work, it sagged under the weight of cheesy, surface level lyrical content and a frail, diluted sound palette that yearned to be more than it was.
Dearly Beloved plugs those holes up and it pays major dividends. Even the most predictable songwriting on this album comes loaded with enough zest and personality to justify its existence and strike a more visceral chord with the listener than the band was capable of doing in years past.
As the album treks forward, the band just lets loose and jams the f*ck out. "The Victim", loaded with political commentary as it is, is equally suitable with its surplus of mesmerizing guitar fills and Chris Daughtry's voice flexing behind the microphone. "Somebody" and "Call You Mine" are the
only sentinels of pop to be found here and even those are earnest enough in their presentation that you can't possibly mind. Elsewhere, the band gets creative. "Lioness" has the most captivating bridge I've encountered in some time. Seeing Chris Daughtry, with the persona his otherworldy voice helped to create, bend the knee in deference to a nameless muse, presumably his wife, he knows can cut him down to size, is quite surreal. It's those little touches that make
Dearly Beloved as much a true adventure as it is a musical event.
There's the obvious red meat longtime fans prayed would someday arrive, but
Dearly Beloved is worthy of far more than that shorthand. Chris Daughtry kills it and the rest of the band never takes a song off either. The songwriting is more intelligent than even the most cynical listener could want, the compositions are beefy and brimming with life and the aura of satisfaction will send you into a state of seemingly unimaginable bliss. Hyperbolic of me, sure. But I mean it. Daughtry f*cking showed out on
Dearly Beloved. A generational vocal talent squandered years of his abilities for the sake of analytics, but no more. He's back to doing what he does best. Welcome back, Chris. Tell the boys what a good job they did too. Album of the year. You can't change my mind.
