His farewell note amounts to its own kind of death joke. Whether through a sudden moment of clarity or a frustrated concession to popular taste, Jokes of death II it is indeed better arranged than its predecessor. McMahon returned to a failed 2021 session to recover discarded parts from keyboardist Money Mark, drummers Jim Keltner and Carla Azar and several others Death jokes contributors. He then teamed up with mixer Craig Silvey, one of the few kindred spirits who understood the album, on a performance of his songs. These are fewer remixes than alternative versions, with the spirit of the originals intact, even enhanced. Gone are the hip-hop-inspired intros, outros and interludes, as are the overwhelming collages. The compositions themselves are leaner, with more focus on McMahon's inimitable slurred vibrato. Now, it is only his voice that speaks to us, directly and intimately, behind the veil of death of Amen Dunes.
The changes to Death jokesThe songs are sometimes subtle, but together they are revelatory. “Rugby Child” was the most troublesome track for McMahon to record, as he had to fight the 909's clock by manually pushing each drum. “Rugby Child (300 Miles Per Hour)” simply throws away the drum machine until its final moments, allowing McMahon's vocals to guide the song to a metronomic beat. At times, the fundamental character of a piece has been altered. The trademark bass from “Boys” is notably absent, and the song's replacement, now called “Italy Pop Punk,” drifts instead of pounding. Both new versions of “Ian”, which bookend IIdrop the samples of the original noise and laughter to give way to its melancholy melody. The result is like waking up to a solution to the problem that kept you tossing and turning all night: Everything is suddenly clearer, cleaner, more coherent.
The biggest edit is on its epic centerpiece Death jokes“Round the World,” which loses more than a minute of runtime and most of its layered samples. Sounds of protest ran throughout the first iteration, from street marches to Boulanger's strong statements about originality. “When you compose, I prefer to make a mistake if you have to, but to remain natural and free,” he declared in accented French. “Round the World (Down South)” removes them, but keeps one important sample: Woody Allen tells a joke about a fight with the KKK. It's an open-ended challenge meant to inspire careful consideration of the limits of moral certainty—one that McMahon particularly resents his critics for ignoring. Including it again after so many others have been stripped away is in itself one last joke at the expense of those who didn't pay attention the first time.
Death jokes it was a concept album whose idea almost overwhelmed the music, a fascinating, frustrating, wonderfully flawed record. To prefer Jokes of death II is to run the risk of privileging the aesthetic over the political, the easy listening over the hard lesson. But if the original was a complex monument to its own troubled birth, II it's proof that it was built on solid foundations: McMahon's beautiful songs about love and loss, life and death, simple and unadorned. Like the best jokes, they feel effortless and real.
