My Morning Jacket - Circuital (LP) - Magenta & Clear Swirl Vinyl

By the time Circuital landed on May 31, 2011, My Morning Jacket had already spent a decade shedding and reshaping their skin. They’d just come off that giddy five‑night run at New York’s Terminal 5 in 2010, playing their catalog front to back and teasing what came next. Circuital felt like an answer to the question those shows raised. Could the band that once sounded like Kentucky ghosts in a grain silo reconnect with their roots without repeating themselves? The short version is yes. The longer version is more fun.

Recorded largely live in a cavernous church gymnasium back home in Louisville, with Jim James working alongside producer Tucker Martine, the album has air around it. You can hear the room. Drums bloom and recede, guitars shimmer, James’ voice floats like a lantern above the mix. After the shape‑shifting of Evil Urges, this plays like a return to feel. Not nostalgia, more like a reset. The band tracked together, minimal polish, and that choice carries through every song.

“Victory Dance” opens with a low, ominous thrum, then rises into a widescreen stomp that announces they’re back in group-mind mode. The title track follows, seven minutes of patient build, picking guitar and organ threading their way toward lift‑off. It’s the kind of slow-burner they’ve long used to turn clubs into cathedrals, and on Circuital it’s the mission statement. There’s melody to spare, but the real hook is the interplay. You hear Tom Blankenship’s bass nudging the groove forward, Patrick Hallahan’s cymbals catching light, Carl Broemel sliding between rhythm and color.

The middle stretch is where the band starts to grin. “Outta My System” breezes in with a campfire bounce and wry lyrics that lean toward fable. “First Light” flashes brass and an easy swing that would have slotted snugly on a summer festival set. Then “Holdin On to Black Metal” arrives, brassy and cheeky, a swaggering strut that somehow marries horns and choir with James’ sly vocal. It’s a risk that shouldn’t work, yet it does, mostly because they keep it loose. You can picture the smiles in the room when they nailed it.

The back half is the heart. “Wonderful (The Way I Feel)” is spare and tender, all hush and gratitude, a ballad that earns its title. “Slow Slow Tune” lives up to its name, a late‑night lullaby, while closer “Movin’ Away” sits at the piano and stares down the door. That last song is a little devastating if you let it be. There’s not a wasted gesture in it.

Critics heard the same recalibration listeners did. Rolling Stone and Pitchfork both gave it strong notices, and the album went on to debut at No. 5 on the Billboard 200, a career high for the band at the time. The Grammys took note as well, handing Circuital a nomination for Best Alternative Music Album at the 54th ceremony. It was a good year to be a Jacket fan, whether you were catching the tour or dropping the needle at home.

About that needle. Circuital vinyl is the way to feel what they captured in that gym. The drums have room to breathe, the guitars take on a warm smear at the edges, and James’ falsetto has a natural halo. If you’re already deep into My Morning Jacket vinyl, this is a cornerstone, the record you pull when you want to hear the band as a band. If you’re starting a collection and looking to buy My Morning Jacket records online, this is a smart first pick. It pairs beautifully with the early reverb‑drenched records and stands apart from the synthier detours. And for crate diggers, it’s the sort of sleeve that tends to vanish the second it hits the new arrivals bin. I’ve seen it disappear in a blink at my local spot, and the same thing happens in a Melbourne record store when a fresh copy shows up, judging by the speed those posts get snapped up on vinyl records Australia forums.

What sticks, years on, is how humane this album feels. No gimmicks, just five players in a big room, letting songs find their shape. That’s the thread that runs through the best My Morning Jacket albums on vinyl, and Circuital tugs it tight. Put it on, take a breath, and let that opening drone carry you back into the circle.