From ’80s college-rock footnote to ’90s one-hit wonder to Grammy-winning Dixie Chicks co-writer—talk about a kooky career trajectory. For someone as restlessly creative as Dan Wilson, you’d think such an intriguing run would’ve inspired a little more va-voom than the innocuous piano balladry and female-fixated introspection found on his solo debut. With arty Minneapolis misfits Trip Shakespeare, Wilson’s calculated quirk-pop classicism was executed with a campy flourish and without a net; then it was beefed up and refined with Semisonic. Yet on much of Free Life, Wilson appears oblivious to his crafty past and indifferent toward his future as a tunesmith for hire. The album begins with “All Kinds,” a dippy ode to infatuation (“You’ve got the kind of beautiful that makes the boys want to give up running all around”) that nonetheless finds partial redemption in an achingly sweet chorus. Admittedly, Wilson has always been an ace with hooks, and Free Life has its share of stick-in-yer-craw melodies catchy enough to delude just about anyone into humming along to wince-inducing zingers like “You were always pretty reckless with your love,” “I only want to love my baby doll” and “Don’t you wanna make me wanna cry?” It’s hard to believe Wilson has come this far to have so little to say. Perhaps with all the writing he’s been doing for less-talented mainstreamers, he simply misplaced his IQ in Jewel’s coat closet? Free Life is about as compelling as a blood-pressure screening: bland, boneheaded adult-contemporary posing as smart, sophisticated adult alternative. [www.danwilsonmusic.com]
—Hobart Rowland
