The last couple of minutes of “Lighthouse” seem to offer an insight into the thinking. First, the last proper line of the record comes into view: “I don’t know…,” sings Duff McKagan, exemplifying, perhaps, the confusion that permeates the entire record like osmosis.
Right after that comes a reprise of the title song, but this time it features Iggy Pop. It’s crazy, but it’s a reminder that a) Duff is a punk at heart, and b) he can get anyone he likes to play on his record.
It’s interesting to trace his work from the first solo record, “Believe In Me,” to the fourth, “Lighthouse.” I bought the 1993 one on the day it was released. I wasn’t a punk fan back then (and Duff did as much as anyone to make me one), but if I recall correctly, I was about two days shy of my 18th birthday when it was released and in the middle of a (bad) obsession – see what I did there? – with Guns N’ Roses, and that was enough.
Fast forward 30 years, he’s changed, I’ve changed, the world has changed, and Duff wanted to create a record that reflects that.
So, “Lighthouse” is the sort of grown-up, late-night, expansive Americana that his last one had in abundance. Crucially, he’s a songwriter of repute now. Hell, Bob Dylan has praised him for his words, and this is another display of astonishing and erudite skill. Take “Longfeather,” for instance. “Oh how the west was won,” he sings in the opening line, and the guitar is beguiling.
It feels like he’s pouring his heart onto the page here. “Holy Water” starts with spoken word, and it really works. Then it moves into a kind of anthemic thing. The lyrics, though, “we kill men with no pity,” and the likes, highlight the depths it explores. “I Saw God On 10th Street” is acoustic, reminiscent of Billy Bragg maybe, and it surveys the world and doesn’t like what it sees. Even God says we’re rotten to the core. This is the absolute shining highlight of the album, sprinkled with enough punk to remind us the fire still burns.
“Fallen” is string-laden and tender by contrast, while “Forgiveness” is reminiscent of the Stones at their most country. This feels like a late-night confessional record to keep you warm at 3 a.m., all balanced out by “Just Another Shakedown,” rocking and rollicking, guiding its ire to “just like the ones before” – in the battle of us against them, we’ll try and win.
Duff has, as they say, lived a life, and it all comes out in “Fallen Ones.” The blues, the harmonies, but moreover, the raw cost of drugs.
And there are guests, of course. Slash turns up on “Hope,” another one that has social issues at its heart. This one tackles religious intolerance, while “I Just Don’t Know” is a little closer to home – indeed, it feels like therapy. “The last born of a long line,” he sings, as he discusses his difficult upbringing. “I think I held my breath from the age of two.”
It’s uncomfortable, but great art often is. “Happy people have no stories,” Therapy? memorably observed, and there are 11 brilliant stories here. “Lighthouse” is not the most immediately accessible record of Duff McKagan’s solo career, but it might be the best. Its intimacy is its strength, and it shines like a beacon of hope.
Rating: 9.5/10
