Forty-track anniversary boxset expands on the source LP’s story The urge to disentangle certain charismatic artists from the mythos that clings to them is as eternally irresistible as it is futile. Interviews and memoirs are useful for this only if the subject/narrator is 100% reliable; the internet, teeming with wild opinions and purported truths, is no place to look for verification. Which is why a combination of cultural romanticism and institutionalised trust still has us looking to an artist’s songs for clues as to who they “really” are.
As someone drawn to the dark side – well documented, not least of all in his unflinching autobiography – is often the subject of “authentic self or projected character?” enquiry, as if the entire value of his recordings post- rests on the answer. It’s an odd thing to ask of someone who didn’t exactly burn through a wide range of personas in their career and barely tweaked their artistic expression. If Lanegan’s years of sombre reflection, the bleak and unshowy poeticism of his lyrics and borderline uncomfortable live performances point to anything, it’s hardly a carefully constructed other.
Talking to about his writing process in 2012, he said, “I always start from some personal place. Some [albums] are more fictional, some are more based on reality, but they all do start from something real.” As for the vast majority of artists, then, so for Lanegan, who steps metaphorically into the spotlight again with this.