by Hannah Levin

My Morning Jacket

w/M. Ward

Tues May 11, Showbox, 8 pm, $15 adv/$17 DOS (all ages).

Often, it's the bands we love the most that are so incredibly difficult to describe. This is the most truthful picture I can give you of My Morning Jacket: Every time I hear the opening track of their last record, It Still Moves (even though I've now probably heard it hundreds of times), when frontman Jim James wails through the last stanza in his Neil Young-ish, reverb-soaked alto, I always feel like sitting down on the floor and crying. Every goddamned time, my cheeks flush, my eyes get hot, and I feel that unmistakable adrenaline rush up my spine--the one every music fan associates with the first record that captured his or her heart as a child.

My reaction surprised me; the early press I read gave me the misguided impression that My Morning Jacket was a neo-hippie jam band with vague alt-country tendencies. It wasn't until I spent some serious time with the CD that I discovered their utterly inimitable combination of clear-throated, mournful balladry, euphoric barroom rock, and a downright majestic sense of sprawl. Even better, it's all grounded in meticulously detailed arrangements and highly evocative of the same elements that made landmark epics like the Flaming Lips' The Soft Bulletin or Built to Spill's Perfect from Now On so arresting.

Although the humble, soft-spoken 25-year-old would never attribute such an emotional response as mine to his own band, he retains vivid memories of which records did that to him. "I was 2 or 3 and I'd hear "Leader of the Band" by Dan Fogelberg and just fucking break down and start crying," he tells me via phone from Louisville, Kentucky. "I just loved it so much. My mom took me to the mall to buy the 45 and I would listen to it over and over. I was just transfixed as long as I can remember."

That childhood transfixion led to similar obsessions with various musical guests on The Muppet Show, the unearthly warble of Roy Orbison, the compulsory classic rock of Led Zeppelin, and a surprising affection for '60s soul queens like Etta James and Nina Simone. James finally took action in seventh grade, while admiring a friend's first guitar. "I remember looking at this white pawnshop Strat and thinking it was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. I wanted to hold it and know it and master it. Ever since then I've pretty much thought about nothing else."

James formed My Morning Jacket in 1998 with his cousin, guitarist Johnny Quaid, boisterous bassist Two-Tone Tommy, and childhood pal Patrick Hallahan on drums (they later added keyboardist Danny Cash). Following the release of several EPs and two full-length CDs on indie label Darla, the band began attracting a large European following. The U.S. caught on shortly thereafter and soon everyone from Beth Orton to the Foo Fighters was tapping them as openers on national tours. In 2003, they signed to RCA, recorded It Still Moves, and continued to tour, perhaps excessively. Earlier this year, Quaid and Cash left the band, citing the demands of touring and the need to spend more time with their families. The parting was amicable and James is sympathetic. "John and Danny are great friends and we will miss them dearly, but I think they made the right [decision] in leaving," he wrote on the band's website last January. When I ask him if he fears hitting the same wall as his former bandmates, he's clearly aware of the occupational hazard. "I do think the most important thing is having fun and loving the people you're with. It's exhausting and insane and sometimes I can't believe that I can still walk and talk. If you get burned out, it's important to take time off."

The band did just that this spring, putting finishing touches on its first live EP, Acoustic Citsuoca, and rehearsing with new guitarist Carl Broemel and keyboardist Bo Koster. A rigorous touring schedule is already in motion, with the band slated to hit the U.S. and Australia, eventually doing the European festival circuit this summer. Fittingly enough, it's that childhood passion for music that James counts on to keep him clear-headed. "Music is what drives me. Once you get into the hardcore music business and you tour all the time, it gets so crazy. One of the only things that can keep you sane is trying to retain that childlike part of you that is captivated and awe-inspired by music."

editor@thestranger.com