It still moves, but Jim James has got a brand new bag. A bag of new records, possibly. Z finds My Morning Jacket at the end of the road, leaning forward, embracing drum clicks and glitzy
keyboards like never before. James still summons his whale of a wail, but the hirsute crew has swapped hookahs for hooks. Less hazy and less lazy, Z is that new kid at school with the fresh looks and hot dance steps. He's such a showoff.
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