If a tree falls and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a noise? If Electric Light Orchestra releases a song without strings, is anybody going to care? These are the fundamentals we must ask ourselves when tackling Alone in the Universe, which has been out for a decade and has, seemingly, left no cultural impact. Jeff Lynne may have gotten the band back together (read band, replace with “self and later Richard Tandy”), but it was off the back of a passing love for the band which had only grown the older their hits got. A Hyde Park performance in 2014 kickstarted a decade-long farewell showcase where Lynne, rightly, enjoyed the spoils of being one of the most understated yet recognisable songwriters. One of the best? No. Alone in the Universe shows he has always had problems with his writing, with this album a blur of Mersey Beats, reggae tones, and autobiographical misfires.
One of the major failings of Alone in the Universe is how on the nose it is. This has been the case for many ELO songs, but they are given a pass because of how catchy they are. Jeff Lynne’s ELO is a contentious name, too, given that it is solely Lynne in the studio. Not even the much-loved Tandy returned for this. Lynne suggested this was to separate the band from other monikers used by Bev Bevan over the years has a few holes in it, especially given Electric Light Orchestra was never used after the band first disbanded in 1986. About as contentious as Paul McCartney trying to switch the Lennon-McCartney credit, but not as interesting. Alone in the Universe is a solo album under a new name. The equivalent would be a Blur reunion with just the cheesemaker. A crucial part, but lacking the vitality and intensity that other members would offer.
What is at hand on the album, then, is Lynne doing as he pleases. The bulk of it is fine enough. Not bad enough to be up in arms about, not good enough to feature on the Over and Out tour. Lynne sounds as though his focus is on bridging the gap between Zoom and Alone in the Universe, and waxing lyrical about his Birmingham roots. A fair transition to make. He picks up on the history of the band and decides to carry on from where they left off. Lynne focuses so much on linking the past and present that he forgets to make the journey interesting. On an album where he pulls from many of his early influences, it is incredible to hear how hollow Alone in the Universe sounds.
Lynne has two moments of touching, sincere work here. When I Was a Boy is your standard looking back fodder which older artists are inclined to share, while the title track is a solid instrumental draw repeating on the theme of the album’s opener. Sandwiched between are songs which Lynne claims are inspired by this genre or that experience, but there are no signs of anything. The slower, groovy charms of Love and Rain wear thin. Backing vocalists and a heavy bassline recall not Lynne’s early days but Bob Dylan’s religious album trilogy. At least Dead Man, Dead Man had a suggestion of action. Lynne can craft these drifting songs well, but when it becomes the main line through Across the Universe, the album is dragged down.
That easy-going concept works when there are songs with a higher tempo mixed in. Lynne offers that with the so-called “rocker,” Ain’t it a Drag. That and One Step at a Time are the only up-tempo tracks for Alone in the Universe, and neither is all that convincing. The former sounds too soft in its rip of Turn to Stone while the latter hears Lynne drowned out by modern disco fever. It makes a difference when hearing his voice struggle with the weakest songs of all. Fun in the studio for Lynne does not translate to the album, and that is the biggest disappointment of all. Revisiting Alone in the Universe is a reminder of has camaraderie in the studio is what brings out the best in our favourite artists. Even dedicated solo artists like Dylan and Paul McCartney had producers and session musicians in place to suggest this or cut that.
Lynne proves he is not strong enough alone when catering to ELO fans. I’m Leaving You is a measly Roy Orbison-like offering, while The Sun Will Shine on You is a mediocre-sounding adaptation of vague messages. Those characters within are in trouble, looking for a way out, but are not given one because the focus is on forcing a happy ending. That warmth Lynne offers with Alone in the Universe is not fresh, it’s reheated leftovers from old recordings. It’s a shame, but an inevitable part of the ageing rocker looking to make good on popular projects from their best years. At its best, though, Alone in the Universe reflects Lynne as a person, not a performer. It is a quiet and considered record which fails to meet expectations. But parts of that can be forgiven as Lynne is both pulling on that 1970s feel with Dirty to the Bone and trying to bring his songwriting and taste in music to the modern world.
Alone in the Universe is a rough listen because of that trying and failing from Lynne. At least he did try, though. There is plenty of heart within the reggae grooves of When the Night Comes and the Mersey adaptations of Ain’t it a Drag. His influences feel obvious, but the attempts at adapting them to song are an earnest expression of a love for music. But a personal love for music does not give Alone in the Universe a pass. It is the worst of ELO’s discography, and the follow-up album, From Out of Nowhere, is no better. A decade on from Alone in the Universe, and it is hard to see it as anything more than a veteran producer giving in to audience expectation and tarnishing the legacy of the band by slapping his name and his feelings onto the band in such plain and poorly obvious fashion.
