It Still Moves

1	Mahgeetah 5:56
2	Dancefloors 5:38
3	Golden 4:39
4	Master Plan 5:05
5	One Big Holiday 5:21
6	I Will Sing You Songs 9:18
7	Easy Morning Rebel 5:09
8	Run Thru 5:45
9	Rollin' Back 7:50
10	Just One Thing 3:13
11	Steam Engine 7:26
12	One in the Same 6:23

Barnes & Noble

Although they hail from the South's art-rock breeding ground, this Louisville-bred quintet are resolute in maintaining a simplicity and directness that owes more to the previous generation of straight-ahead rockers. About the only conceit that My Morning Jacket allow themselves is a serious reverb addiction, one that makes It Still Moves sound like it was recorded in a barn (as parts of it actually were). Frontman Jim James does evoke ghosts of Neil Young past, but that has more to do with the reedy tenor that Mother Nature bestowed upon him than any tribute-band intent on his part. That stoned-soul folkiness -- the top note on the band's previous outings -- comes through most strongly on the inward-looking "Master Plan," the album's quietest, darkest number. The bare-knuckled "Run Thru" shows more swagger than James has previously evinced, its no-frills riffing reminiscent of vintage Led Zeppelin; "Dancefloors," on the other hand, finds the band ensconced in a funky cocoon of piano and horns, all the better to further the song's Stones-y groove. Like a good many of his Dixie-fried forebears, James has a propensity for beer drinking and hell raising, but as evidenced by songs like "Golden" and "Easy Morning Rebel," he's got a clue about the mornings after as well. Consider this disc fit listening at either end of the party cycle. David Sprague

All Music Guide

It's a beautiful thing to know that Brian Wilson is still alive and well in the kingdom of indie rock. My Morning Jacket's third full-length effort, and first for the ATO/RCA venture label, is a step beyond the band's work for Darla. While the gorgeous amalgam of the Band's vision of country/Americana and Neil Young's blend of folk and rock are everywhere present, there is a new textural awareness evident on It Still Moves. Jim James' songwriting is tighter in structure, but his production sensibility is early-'70s Laurel Canyon, with some of the Grateful Dead's American Beauty tropes as well. Sounds like a mess, doesn't it? Well, it's not. Wearing your influences on your sleeve doesn't mean unoriginality. James is an original songwriter; he has worked hard to develop the gifts inherent in his lyric concerns and his ability to paint emotional landscapes with his melodies, and the payoff has never been greater. "Mahgeetah," with its Pet Sounds ambience and country-rock melody -- complete with fuzzed-out guitar solo -- is far more imaginative than anything Wilco ever pulled off by trying the same thing (which they do over and over ad nauseam). "Dancefloors," with its biting Telecaster lead line that echoes "Baby Don't Do It" and the Stray Gators' country majesty, is full of warmth, depth, and Levon Helm's soul. And "Golden," which is the third track in this opening triad, brings James' love of Tim Buckley and Fred Neil into the light. But all of these elements of construction are read through James' Kentucky and his unique melodic gift, where fragments becomes entire lines become songs with stunning bridges, achingly poetic lyrics, and a country boy's sense of whacked-out humor and tenderness (check out "One Big Holiday"). The horn arrangements on "Easy Morning Rebel" make the country shuffle into a near R&B tune with an old-timey stroll through a shambolic rhythm track. In all, My Morning Jacket may be a journey through the past, but it's also a solid step into something rock & roll has been missing for an awfully long time in the mainstream arena: melody, extremely catchy and well-written songs that aren't afraid of the mainstream, and a love of the great pop continuum that translates into something new. Thom Jurek

Spin Magazine

Think of It Still Moves... as a Tennessee Williams play revamped as Southern-rock opera, all gothic romance and alcoholic ardor. (A-) Zac Crain