2023-08-10 14:21:09
For the time being, Damian Lewis will probably remain known primarily as Nicholas Brody, Bobby Axelrod or Richard Winters in pop culture perception. With Mission Creep, however, he positions himself as a serious musician.
„Before his successful acting career, Damian Lewis was primarily a musician, inspired by the style-defining rock bands of his youth and busking for years.“ the press text regarding the past of the 52-year-old, which strives for credible authenticity for the present and future, knows more than Wikipedia, but even with this announcement it will probably not be able to dispel the skepticism from the outset that mimes are automatically made to meet somewhere if they profession into musical territory – regarding which David Duchovny, Bruce Willis, Hugh Laurie Scarlett Johansson, Kevin Costner, Jeff Bridges or Ryan Gosling, for example, also beyond the cabinet of curiosities of tolerable idleness (because of colleagues like Corey Feldman, Steven Seagal, Don Johnson, Eddie Murphy , Gwyneth Paltrow or Stephen Collins) can sing a song.
In fact, however, the 53 minutes of Mission Creep even for the reputation it deserves, as Lewis faced a Giacomo Smith (of the Londoner Kansas Smitty’s House Band) recruited, instrumentally wide-ranging, but suitably reserved group of accomplished musicians with a surprisingly androgynous voice, intoning a falsetto that strolls to the bombastic theatricality, shows real skill – aesthetically vaguely flattered in the memory of Ahnoni and Bryan Ferry?
Relaxed and above all in Soho Tango (this relaxed, grooving catchy tune, which later whistles something from his guitar and invites the soulful choir as well as a reserved saxophone) or Hole in My Roof (a funky yacht subtlety, too seductive for the elevator) is downright summery calm Mission Creep a variable in the barrier-free, catchy comfort zone of pleasing singer-songwriter blues and folk rock with cool jazz nonchalance. Pleasant to listen to, entertaining and competent, attractive and elegant, offering a surprisingly substantial half-life (and being benevolently between the points gets the rounding up in the rating).
Lewis glides elegantly through percussively carried, almost Elbow‘esque key detachments (approx Down on the Bowery or that of course rippling from the soft keyboard She Comes), proves itself in reduced roadhouse rock’n’roll (the swinging with harmonica My Little One or the slightly hoarse strumming of David Bowie in glam fabric softener Makin’ Plans) as in the soulful nonchalance of classic rock (After Midnight) or gently rumbling Americana with country hatching (Zaragoza), while his band sometimes runs loosely along in lively pop with a softly slapping bass (Never Judge a Man by His Umbrella), smooth walks into the bar (Wanna Grow Old in Paris), dreamily shuffling along Jelly Roll Morton in black and white vintage nostalgia (Why) or the unlocked credits Such a Night motivated and unspectacular, always guided by the idiosyncratic, charismatic timbre of their singer.
And yes if Harvest Moon as an easy listening lounge with a latent Muzak flair, in a certain respect also representative of the incidental depth effect of Mission Creep seems to be when the question that is representative of the entire record floats in the room – does this thirteen-thousandth cover of the Neil Young classic really need it? – Lewis offers a sad answer, even with the death of Helen McCRory in mind, which is probably only essential for himself per se, but feeds his reputation as a musician with sovereign class and strong songwriting with background sound entertainment value.
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