His new album shows his his influences and his craft, but where’s Troy?

Trombone Shorty has been in the public eye since he was a novelty with a horn bigger than he was, and just as he has grown as a person, he has grown as a recording artist. His recordings and shows have long marked him as someone who knew himself and his music well enough to take stock of what he needed to address and do something about it. He and Orleans Avenue worked until they became the band that could execute a more modern, rock-forward take on New Orleans funk, and on Backatown, Shorty provided documentation of that growth. His debut on Verve Forecast presented him as an update of the New Orleans funk/rock/jazz hybrid, and the bold, horn-driven compositions had enough power and presence on the album to overshadow the vocal tracks, where the lyrics and his voice were serviceable but not a selling point. 

For True reinforced the strengths of Backatown and included such musical guests as Jeff Beck and Warren Haynes, who brought their imprimatur as much as their chops to a project that sounded as if it was made to sell to Jazz Fest audiences. After that you could hear Shorty working to up his singing and songwriting on Say That to Say This and Parking Lot Symphony, but the blueprint for his music was in place. 

Lifted is his first album in three years, and it’s the first album that doesn’t sound like a step forward. That’s not a bad thing because nobody has to stay in motion, and Shorty is very good at updating The Meters’ R&B and funk for modern audiences. It’s notable because it’s a surprise though, and because it feels a little like a moment when you wonder if a wrong turn was taken a little while back. 

Trombone Shorty plays Jazz Fest at 5:45 p.m. on the Festival Stage.

Everything on Lifted is enjoyable, but I remember liking Say This to Say That and Parking Lot Symphony too, even though I can’t remember any of the songs on them without looking at the albums. Right now, I’m really enjoying the Lenny Kravitz-like “Forgiveness” and “Miss Beautiful,” but I’m not optimistic that they’ll stay with me either. There’s nothing wrong with them, but they’re not special. “Hurricane Season” is. The signature track from Backatown remains distinctive and because of that, memorable. No one else was doing something like that with a funk-rock band, and it still encapsulates so much of what makes Shorty and Orleans Avenue impressive. Lifted makes me feel like he has learned to do a thing that others do very well at the cost of doing the thing that made him individual. 

Shorty has a choice to make, and perhaps he has already made it. He can occupy the role of keeper of the torch for New Orleans funk—one he shares with Ivan and Ian Neville, who are also in that game by blood the way he is—or he can more clearly stake out his own space as a product of that background. Pursuing a more signature sound seems more the way to go, but since Shorty’s very successful on his current path, the incentive to remain on it is clear. I’m not sure you can tell a guy who has played The White House that he’s messing up, but personally, I look forward to the day when I hear Shorty music remixed or Shorty paired with a producer to give his horn and grooves a more electronic edge so that it sounds more dance music sounds in 2022. But I will understand if that day never comes. 

If it seems like I’m reviewing around the album, guilty as charged, but Lifted is a hard album to dig into. The lyrics work fine, but if they provide insight into Shorty’s life or mindset, it’s not obvious. His songcraft is strong enough that for the four minutes of “Come Back,” I’m invested in the song and amused by the occasional Earth, Wind & Fire flourishes Shorty has added to his musical arsenal. When we move on to “Lie to Me,” the HBCU marching band horn arrangement interests me and compels me en route to the title tag, but other than making me worry a little about his relationships, the words simply sound like things to sing well before moving on to the next song, when the process repeats itself. 

Objectively, Lifted is another very good Trombone Shorty album, and I don’t think ever written more skeptically about an album I enjoyed. But Shorty’s not just another talent, and I’m not sure another well-made funk-rock album has much currency in 2022. He still has so much potential and has shown so much growth over the course of the last decade that it feels reasonable to say he can do more and make more of an impact. 

 One last thought …

After finishing this review, I heard Shorty’s appearance on Marc Maron’s WTF podcast. The conversation was limited by Maron’s struggle to make New Orleans’ horn-driven music and the word “jazz” work in his head since he clearly couldn’t think of the latter outside of the bop and post-bop lineage. But in the conversation, he and Shorty talked briefly about Dr. John and Gumbo, which sparked one last thought about Lifted. 

I hear Gumbo as a transitional album for Dr. John when he became the guy who translated New Orleans for the world. I hear Shorty occupying that role on his last few albums, Lifted included, and the conversation with Maron left the impression that he was looking to create an accurate representation of New Orleans’ music on the album. That’s an honorable goal and one he succeeds at on the album, but I still think he can and should aim higher.