Even the extras shine on an expanded reissue of Z, My Morning Jacket’s masterpiece

After the crunchy twin guitar jams, heartfelt (occasionally disarminglygoofy) songcraft, emotional vulnerability and soaring echo-laden vocals recorded in an old grain silo explored to often stunning effect on 2001’s At Dawn, they appeared to have a clear identity and a fruitful future as prime revivers of classic rock dynamics.

2005’s Z proved such predictions woefully inaccurate. The circumstances surrounding the gestation of the My Morning Jacket’s fourth album weren’t necessarily conducive to such an assured creative breakthrough. Founding members Danny Cash (keyboards) and Johnny Quaid (guitar) departed in early 2004, to be replaced by Bo Koster and Carl Broemel, forming a durable line-up that has now lasted over 20 years. Drafting of the songs was undoubtedly profoundly infused by bereavement (two of songwriter, singer and guitarist Jim James’s close friends passed away around this time). Whether intentionally or by delightful accident, however, Z conclusively shook off the shackles of any constricting retro/classic rock jam band bracket by incorporating elements of dub/reggae, psychedelia, electronica and the kind of frothing-at-the-mouth rock ‘n’ roll ramalama that kicked up the tempo to previously unthinkable regions for a band whose previous output had rarely been at risk of a speeding ticket to the band’s proven expertise in unifying Lynyrd Skynyrd-ian southern rock swagger with the jagged melancholy of hypnotically plodding slow-burn à la Neil Young & Crazy Horse.

Contemporary reviews (uniformly enthusiastic, for reasons that remain fully valid two decades later) made references to such totems of experimental, creatively curious alt-rock (for want of a less clunky term) as Radiohead and Wilco, but Z still really only sounds like itself, unless you count in subsequent My Morning Jacket albums, which have mined a similarly unconstrained spirit of exploration with variable results. In theory, the synth-driven, robotic stop/start stutter of “Wordless Chorus” is a deeply strange proposition, but James’s otherworldly, ever-ascending and, well, wordless wailing (which somehow articulates more emotion than several intricate lyric sheets ever could) at the song’s summits turn it into an irresistible, all-join-together gem. Mixing vulnerable introspection, devotional declarations and tear-stained melodies to uncompromisingly assertive drum attack that threatens to level all in its way, “It Beats For You” seems a similarly unlikely recipe, but the song’s juxtapositions result in a breathtaking, beautifully moving yet powerfully propulsive masterpiece. Elsewhere, there is arena-igniting Springsteen-ian grandeur (“Gideon”), reggae-hued skank giving way to weightlessly drifting, heady space-rock (the thrillingly odd “Off The Record”), over-stimulated rock ‘n’ roll exuberance straining at the leash (“Anywhere”), even a nod towards My Morning Jacket’s previous favoured stomping grounds (the twin-guitar burn of “Laylow”).

There are hints of loss and emotional heaviness throughout Z: the pedal steel-enriched, low-lit ache of “Knot Comes Loose”, a tribute to a special person who’s gone away, presented as a white-knuckled riff rollercoaster (“What a Wonderful Man”), and especially the mesmerising “Dondante”, which channels both the ragged mournfulness of Neil Young’s most hypnotic fretboard emissions and the majestic inner space explorations of prime Pink Floyd (check the moment when Broemel’s saxophone takes over from James’s soaring lead guitar) to create a startlingly evocative landmark in cosmic loneliness. Ultimately, however, the album feels life-affirming in its joyous dedication to the healing and uplifting potential of music, an impression further strengthened by 2006’s outstanding double live Okonokos.

Remarkably, the generous extras (14 rarities and demos) on Z The 20th Anniversary Deluxe Edition don’t pale much next to the original album: in fact, some may be debating whether the sparkling barn dance of “Where To Begin” (originally on the soundtrack to 2005 film Elizabethtown) or the soaring double knockout of “Chills” and “How Could I Know (Oxen)” should have somehow been squeezed on to the original album. Jim James’s demos for the album also offer some enticing revelations: a solo acoustic initial impression of “It Beats For You” suggests a fitting sequel for acoustic fan favourite “Golden” (off It Still Moves), while the alternative version of “Into The Woods” feels fresher and less overcrowded than the slightly overcooked take on Z.

Discussing the motivations for Z, Jim James has spoken of a wish to move away from the trappings of classic rock while continuing to make music that moves you like (and has the momentum of) rock ‘n’ roll. Listening to Z now, My Morning Jacket certainly succeeded totally in that quest twenty years ago.