ROCKS
Aerosmith
(Columbia)
by Joe
S. Harrington
Wowie
zowie, did I ever tell you that this is one o’ the most
awesome platters ever waxed in the name of, you know, rock
n’ roll (old folks music). A real killer from start
to finish. Definitely underrated. A CLASSIC transitional alb
betwixt seventies boogoid “mustache ride” rock
and the oncoming glam-metal of the eighties…
and punk too, because, check out the attitude of Tyler and
company on this major-label monster (one of the LAST good
ones…ever). But more on that in a minute. Rocks
was positively the LAST Aerosmith elpee worth a damn, and
it was also in many ways their best. After that they could’ve
pulled a Lynyrd Skynyrd (speaking of moustache rock) and it
wouldn’t have mattered. They hung in there and trashed
the legend, just like Lou Reed, Iggy, the Stones, the ex-Beatles,
Dylan, Ozzy and a million others. So what?
Actually the first four
Aerosmith albums are all excellent: the first one is this
kind of Cape Cod bar band boogie, very endemic to Boston and
the surrounding region. J. Geils were merely doing a more
urbanized version, but the intent was the same: kick ass.
Aerosmith was the reigning New England party album
until Boston came along to usurp it. Once again,
the vibe was the same — “smokin’ tokin’/puke
tonight mama I ain’t jokin’!” MOUSTACHE
ROCK! But there weren’t no moustaches in Aerosmith coz
they were also goin’ for this glam-pout image, which
put ‘em firmly in the metal camp right behind Kiss as
the up-and-comers of the whole ’73 era.
Get Your Wings,
their second, was a continuation of the punk attitude first
expressed on such cuts from the first album as “Movin’
Out” and “One Way Street.” This was the
album where Aerosmith really came into their own, adding something
more sinister to the heavy metal mix ala Sabbath, Kiss or
BOC, as opposed to coming off as a Stones/Dolls-derived “party”
band. The vibe was dark and heavy, and somewhat oppressive—which
is what I like about it. Meanwhile their posture on the cover
was, as Circus dubbed it, “cooler than thou”
with all their spandex and dirty long hair. It wasn’t
quite moustache rock (as epitomized by Foghat, ZZ Top, James
Gang etc.). It was a step beyond and the third alb, Toys
in the Attic — also for the most part excellent
— was a continuation along this decadent path, only
by now the tempo had picked up slightly. You notice the same
thing about the Dolls and Kiss — they got faster as
they went along, and hence better if you ask me.
Also with Toys, Aerosmith got their first taste of
mainstream success with the hits “Sweet Emotion”
and “Walk This Way.” This put ‘em over the
top, and now they really were competing with Kiss and Zeppelin
in the metal titans sweepstakes.
Ok, superstardom
was theirs at last, this brash bar band from Boss-clown…the
Rolling Stone cover, Bebe Buell in the limousine, Tyler could
afford a whole lot of new scarves. This was the era where
Joe Perry really was like: “Eeeh, I needed two lines
and two beers just to get up in the morning.” So how
did Aerosmith respond to their fame? By turning around and
making one o’ the ultimate glammo-decadento masterpieces
of the decade, Rocks, which came out in 1976, slightly
before the first Ramones album.
I mention that fact
coz it’s significant. Before there was formerly “punk”
there was always punks and that’s what someone
like Steven Tyler represents. In other words, whereas guys
like Verlaine and Richard Hell, in homage to Rimbaud and Baudelaire
(and even Dylan), were consciously “punk”
(as in poetic) a guy like Tyler really was the essence
of the ill-begotten punk with NOTHING on his mind other than
carnage. And that’s what really comes off of this album
— these palookas really were reveling in their
superstardom in a way that even the Stones or Zep or Bowie
had never pulled off. The only comparable alb, attitude-wise,
is Kiss’s Destroyer, which came out at approximately
the same time — which once again was that slim window
right before Punk broke (never mind that Nirvana stuff, punk
actually “broke” the day the first Ramones album
came out on Sire, but unfortunately the culture was at low
tide, and has been ever since, so it took a while for that
wave to hit — which was long after it broke,
and hence irrelevant).
So what’s on this
platter? Well if you kiddos have never heard this ‘un
you’re in for a treat coz it’s just a heavy-mental
sledgehammer from start to finish. Aerosmith had improved
vastly as musicians since the first album…the tempos
no longer plod and Joe Perry was now whipping off metallic
leads worthy o’ his idols Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page.
Less Stones at this point—once again, these clowns were
coming into their own. And what a way to do it with the monster
riff of “Back in the Saddle” leading the way…this
is Tyler’s own celebration of superstardom and the vocals
are once again sinister. This track shows Aerosmith’s
mastery of the sexual-metaphor-as-statement-of-being…a
tactic they would employ again and again. It would be an empty
boast, like some of Kiss’s stuff, if they didn’t
back it up with genuine musical dynamics, but they do. Compare
Rocks to either the Stones’ Black &
Blue or Zep’s Presence (released the same
year) to name just two former influences that Aerosmith by
this point had usurped.
The second cut, “Last
Child,” is Aerosmith’s mocking attempt at “hick”-oriented
material, but far from a hokey hoedown it features an almost
mechanical riff by Perry that clomps along with the leadfoot
determination of the ploughman while Tyler once again doles
out salacious metaphors dealing w/ “sassafras”
and other homespun verbage to once more equivocate his gonads.
It’s hilarious stuff, and I’m sure the average
cowpoke was NOT too amused by it, kinda like when the Dolls
hit Texas and got threatened by those hicks, who really were
like: “Waaaaah, y’all look like women.”
Once again, Aerosmith were moving way BEYOND moustache rock
— the Dolls were definitely the precedent, which is
what I mean about this album being TOTAL PUNK, but Aerosmith
were able to pull it off in a way the Dolls weren’t.
Hell, I know this album is punk coz GILBERT DOUGHTY and I
used to listen to it in 1976, when I was twelve and we were
doing the most punk things in our lives — like breaking
people’s windows, rolling huge cement pipes onto darkened
roads, and stealing people’s mail. Rocks was
the soundtrack to the whole juvenile delinquent uprising of
the seventies, and it wouldn’t be usurped in this capacity
until AC/DC released their magnum opus, Highway to Hell,
in ’79. It doesn’t get more “punk”
than this.
A perfect examp is “Rats in the Cellar,” a bracing
punk opus that really drives home the album’s whole
nihilistic intent: “Throw me in the slam/Catch me if
you can,” Tyler sings with ferocious intensity as the
verse literally reverberates in air, before Perry squashes
it through some Zeppelinoid tomfoolery and renders an amazing
solo worthy o’ Page or Beck himself. And speakin’
of Perry, just like Keith finally blossomed as a songwriter
on Let it Bleed w/ “You Got the Silver,”
the sideclosing “Combination” gives Perry another
chance to shine with his own composition, a complexly melodic
but utterly metallic piece containing one of Aerosmith’s
most vulgar and beautiful lyrics: “Walking on Gucci/Wearing
Yves St. Laurent/Better stay on/Coz I’m so goddamn gaunt.”
They were admitting their
excesses freely, and perhaps no album I can think of so voiced
the decadent ethos of rock stardom as passionately as this
one. It would definitely be a big influence on the first Van
Halen album, which took the overblown posture of Rocks
and helped turn it into bubblegum. But that was the whole
step towards the eighties metal that I was talking about,
what made this not moustache rock was that Aerosmith
(and Kiss) were always leaning in that direction.
Second side starts with
another tune that twists a common cliché into a clever
metaphor…mainly “Sick as a Dog,” which is
another killer riff that explodes with kinetic energy worthy
of the Stones, Who, Faces, Zep, or any of the other true masters
of the riff. One should also mention Jack Douglas’s
production, which had been slowly improving since the first
alb—the dynamics are geared towards the highest register
so the whole ensemble functions as one giant RIFF (Mutt Lange
would achieve the same ends with AC/DC). Dig the handclaps,
which have much more in common, sonically, with something
like the MC5’s Back in the USA than they do
with, say, Montrose. Aerosmith had finally left the plod behind,
which is why Rocks stands up a lot better nowadays than something
like Ted Nugent.
“Nobody’s
Fault” — ironically coming at the same time as
Zep unleashed “Nobody’s Fault But Mine”
— is another amazing piece of music, perhaps the most
extreme heavy-metal Aerosmith ever produced. One can literally
hear them turning up the amps at the beginning of the song
and the slight hesitation signals chaos as Perry suddenly
lets loose a surging flood of completely over-the-top riffage.
They must’ve been doing shitloads of coke, just like
Sabbath at the same time, because you can hear Tyler almost
pulling his hair out as he screeches lyrics like “shit
piled up n’ debris!” This song is like a vacation
in hell, but you don’t mind it so much — which
once again reconfirms my theory that this alb in many ways,
theoretic and otherwise, set the precedent for Highway
to Hell.
Think of it this way —
if one had to line up perhaps the three classic heavy-metal
LPs it would probably be this one, Highway and Motorhead’s
Ace of Spades.
The third-to-last cut,
“Get the Lead Out,” is probably the worst on the
alb — it’s Tyler doing more of his “hick”
parodies, which is more of the Boston stuff…mainly,
THEY’RE so close to being hicks that they think by mocking
rednecks they’ll distance themselves from their own
New York inferiority complex (or something like that). Hence
the fact, on this track, there’s stuff about “fried
chicken” and the like. It’s still pretty good
though — it would’ve done the Stones proud at
this point and Nashville Pussy has never done a song as great.
“Lick and a Promise” is yet another supercharger
with more of that reverberating dynamic I mentioned a few
paragraphs back. They just dive headlong into it, and make
all the right harmonic decisions…end result is another
twisting turning opus that, even 28 years later, hasn’t
grown cold.
Alb closes with “Home
Tonight,” which I of course had mixed feelings about
during my kid-hood since it was a BALLAD and all, but that
I appreciate now coz w/ Tyler mewling the homesick rockstar
blues I realize that this really was the precursor to the
whole wave of schlock-metal “ballads” in the eighties.
In fact Motley Crue’s “Home Sweet Home”
is practically the exact same song. Gotta give credit where
credit’s due, and increasingly, it’s looking like
it’s all been done before.
Now can I review Get
the Knack?
Wait,
how do you spell that? Oh, okay, G-A-Y. Thanks.
MY
LIFE WITH PAVEMENT
by Joe H
Back way
back in the primal indie-rock era, before Cosloy lost his
eyesight when Matador ruled the roost, there were two groups
I absolutely refused to listen to, because they reeked of
the hipster cooties that I abhorred. I even bought Exile
in Guyville but consciously steered clear of Pavement
and Guided By Voices. The latter to me seemed to be the worst
kind of classic-rock-in-drag and there was nothing I cared
about less than a paunchy middle-aged schoolteacher who jammed
with his buddies and taped every second of his time-out-for-bathroom-breaks
gramps-rock. And Pavement seemed the epitome of smarmy college
rock and just the fact that it seemed all the “right”
(read: wrong) people liked ‘em made ‘em
a slightly too precious (read: smarmy) for me to
indulge in…although I must admit by the time of Watery,
Domestic, their ’93 EP—which is included
in the new Slanted and Enchanted: Luxe and Redux—they’d
even won me over (although that might’ve just been the
homage to Ambergris on the cover, and the fact that the day
I bought the album was also the occasion of a very well-remembered
one-night-stand). I’ll never forget when Slanted
and Enchanted, the ORIGINAL, came out: WMBR in Cambridge
actually played the whole thing in its entirety as if it was
an actual event. And while I thought that was cool,
having always been a firm believer in the potential of benign
objects to have world-changing implications (at least in my
world anyway, hence Ramones Leave Home or Never
Mind the Bollocks or The Dictators Go Girl Crazy),
it didn’t make me run out and buy the album. In fact,
I seldom bought ANY Matador wax, preferring to give my moolah
to Jimmy Johnson, pre-electroid days, for the latest ultra-obscure
Corwood or Twisted Village rambling…altho’ I did
shell out bucks for an occasional Matador opus (the “trilogy”
made by Yo La Tengo—Painful, Electro-Pura,
and I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One which, if
you really look at it, for that band really was like the succession
of Let it Bleed-Sticky Fingers-Exile
for the Stones—being an exception as was the previously
mentioned Liz “I don’t play” Phair opus,
which I got duped into believing was the next step beyond
Barbara Manning when it was just this generation’s equivalent
of Stevie Nicks, but anyway. The fact is, I never even HEARD
Slanted, ‘cept for that one time on ‘MBR,
til a couple yrs later when I was drivin’ down to New
York with this band I knew called Meatsicle, which featured
Steven Prygoda, currently of My Own Worst Enemy, and we played
it on the way, and the only thing that stood out was the bratty
petulant “I’m trying” tirade of
one of the songs, which I still don’t know
the name of, but recognized instantly when I heard it again
here…
But there’s
one problem: nowhere is there a track listing so I still don’t
know what the fucking song is called. Which gets me back to
my whole problem w/ this kind of collegiate self-expression
in the first place: mainly the lack o’ any credits or
even a picture of the band. So once again Pavement
lived up to my estimation of ‘em as a bunch of pretentious
smarmy twits altho’ it does unconditionally qualify
‘em as quantum indie-rock coz this was a well-worn trick
during that whole era, and probably still is amongst the remaining
indie-rock factions (which at this late date is symbolic of
one long collective yawn). Mainly, the pretentious habit of
not listing credits, or the proper song order, almost as if
to say that our music is either too “cool” (or
unimportant) to require categorizing of any kind. It’s
reverse elitism, total passive aggressive behavior that would’ve
NEVER behooved groups who wanted to see their name in lights
like T. Rex, Cooper, the ‘Tators, the Pistols or even
Lisa Suckdog. It’s that whole nerdy staring-at-my-shoes
type of humility that helped turn rock n’ roll into
something for sippers instead of guzzlers. Pavement to me
always represented the absolute essence o’
that kind of thinking, although, like I said, they eventually
won me over with some of their post-Slanted work
like the brilliant “Sue Me Jack” single, which
was some of the most constructive use of post-Sonic Youth
noise this side of Al Licht in Love Child, and the aforementioned
Watery, Domestic. The good news is, both of them
are included in this new reissue package. But once again there
are no credits.
Then again, I just
realized….eeeeh, I borrowed this reissue from ANDREW
COLSTON, guitarist for Portland’s fab ragamuffin scum
peddlers the POINTS! That idiot! Perhaps he LOST the accompanying
booklet, which might’ve contained the album credits?
Makes it fuckin’ hard for a reviewer when he doesn’t
even know which fuckin’ song is which! All I have here
to go on, besides a reprint o’ both the Slanted
and Watery sleeves (both of which were bastions of
more scribble-mark gobbledygook), is a lyric sheet that consists
of handwritten scrawl, with no indication what order the tracks
actually play. I know you might think I’m griping about
this too much, but goddamn, it seems pretty presumptuous to
me to put forth a hunk o’ product w/ no way to identify
which song is which. But that’s always been Pavement’s
whole unassuming posture. And because I’m basically
unfamiliar w/ Slanted in the first place, I’m
gonna have a hard as hell time translating to you, the reader,
which song I’m actually writing about. Checked out the
discs themselves to see if the track listings were on there—of
course not, it’s just more watercolor indie swirlie-swirl,
probably designed by the girlfriend of one of the band mates.
None of them are gay, but they’re very tolerant of it
of course. Two of the five have actually dressed as women
on Halloweens past. Never mind finding out who’s actually
in the band either—we all know Steve Malkmus,
who’s of course gone on to bigger and better things,
letting sweetie-kins in the group, and persevering in a whole
new incarnation. But I’d be hard pressed to identify
even one other member of the group.
Which is kind of
the whole point about indie rock in general and Pavement in
particular—as opposed to rockers past (once again, Cooper,
AC/DC, Kiss, the Beatles, Cheap Trick, Iggy, Bowie or even
PUNKS like Sid Vicious or Darby Crash) the whole idea was
to be kind of FACELESS and, once again, unassuming, which
is why clowns like this went onstage in t-shirts and other
nondescript attire. They didn’t want attention
coz they were petulant geniuses who felt their work should
speak for itself. What did they think they were, jazz
musicians? Musically, it sounds more like yet another
twist on the V. Underground, but why complain? Considering
the New World Order that is upon us, the time is ripe for
nostalgia for the Clinton era. And even though Slanted
slightly predated said epoch, Pavement were one of the quintessential
nineties groups and it’s great to finally get to hear
what I was missing all along.
Disc one, according
to the scant credits, supposedly consists of Slanted and
Enchanted along with “Slanted sessions and the
John Peel Sessions #1.” It’s fairly easy to identify
the latter due to Peel’s trademark sandbag style, which
lends itself well to Fall-inspired rockers like whatever track
#18 is called. Remember, the Fall themselves eventually ended
up on Matador, so everything connects. Starting at the beginning,
the first song “Summer Babe,” the opening cut
on Slanted, introduced the classic Pavement sound: a rhythmic
rollercoaster of weird syncopated drumming, and a lot of gnawing
insect-noise type of guitars, with Malk-mouse sarcastically
intoning his throwaway lyrics. This stuff was obviously an
influence on everyone from the Strokes to the Libertines,
and Malkmus was the best Lou Reed imitator of his generation
(way better than Ira Kaplan). I never realized the Lou influence
on this stuff ‘til now, but it’s not surprising
considering that it was truly rare to find an indie-rock band
anywhere, back in those days, who wasn’t well-versed
in VU academia. But admittedly Pavement added something to
it. “Trigger Cut,” for instance, features a gloriously
chunky downstroked jangling riff with an almost call-and-response
vocal delivery courtesy o’ Malkmouth n’ company.
Malkmouse was not
a good yeller ala Iggy or that guy in the Agenda (Jason?)
or even Bob Mould in his prime—Steve’s supposed
“grist” (not to be confused with Ambergris of
course) is rather underwhelming I must say. He sounds like
a whiny bratty college creep…which is exactly what he
was so I guess that makes it “authentic” at the
very least, and y’ can’t really ask for much more
than that unless you really DO want it to be all neo-Tin Pan
Alley and one thing about Pavement is, no matter how much
I always loathed them—or what they stood for anyway—I
did always admit they were IMPORTANT! Like Liz Phair, it had
to happen and of course Cosloy was there first…#$%%$&!
Meanwhile the “I’m Tired” song comes back
to haunt us and this is the one I remember from the roadtrip
to New York, and I think even recall saying something about
it at the time to my comrades about how I thought it was bogus.
I had a friend once who complained that he thought Alan Licht’s
delivery on Love Child’s “Permission” sounded
totally forced, and while I disagree in that count, it’s
true, rage is something that the average angst-ridden college
kid has a hard time pulling off. But despite the fraudulent
nature of Malkmisses’ tantrum here, the song itself
is a complete bastardization of “The Murder Mystery”
with some Butterglory thrown in. Not the best Pavement song,
in other words, and I still don’t know the goddamn name
of it.
Pavement was
one of the many groups from that era—a great deal of
them on Matador—who straddled the line betwixt pop and
avant-garde. So on this fine disc you can hear more traditional
influences (Lou, Neil Young, Roxy Music) mixing with that
weird kind of almost off-key Sonic Youth quality. “Loretta’s
Scars” is a perfect examp of Crazy Horse-meets-Sonic
Youth-in-Eno’s-greenhouse. It’s got that whooshing
Warm Jets texture, with a lot of strangulated guitar notes
ala Neil n’ Thurston. “Here” meanwhile is
probably the best song on the alb—a great loping mid-tempo
march-to-a-metronome riff, very reminiscent of the stuff the
Velvets were doing in 1969 with a heartfelt talkalong Lou
Reed/Ira Kaplan vocal from Mr. Malkmus. He gets a good tone
out of his ax, and even the lyrics are alreet. For once he
doesn’t sound like he’s puttin’ you on,
and from Malkmus, that’s a rarity. It’s truly
a landmark of the era, and I’m really glad to finally
have it in the collection (even though these lazy bums, who
probably had to get back to studying for their little college
finals, didn’t even come up with a proper ENDING for
the damn song…)
Speakin’ o’
Steve-o’s lyrics, they’re a LOT better ‘n
his counterpart Bob Pollard’s pathetic drool…but
too often his lyrics, as well as delivery o’ said wordage,
resorts too much to almost beat-poetry type nonsense. Wish
I had a goddamn track listing so I could site #12 as an example
of just that, although riff-wise it’s got some interesting
early Cleveland nuances (think the Styrenes or the Devo of
Duty Now for the Future). Pavement ain’t bad, that’s
for sure! They are in the highest echelon of minor, which
may seem like a backhanded compliment but y’ know makes
‘em infinitesimally better than, say, Helium.
A perfect example
is track #13, which one presumes was left off the actual Slanted
alb although given the dearth o’ adequate liner notes,
there’s really no way of knowing. Like I said, never
owned Slanted so I can’t go and look. And while
I think I have the follow-ups Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain
and Wowee Zowee lyin’ around somewhere (I think
I got ‘em free) I’d be hard-pressed to find ‘em
right now and have probably only listened to ‘em once
respectively apiece. Because this kind of music, while not
bad, is so bland as far as ROCK N’ ROLL goes that it’s
better suited for background music, and then it’s only
the removal of a decade that makes it even palatable in that
sense. In other words, when Pavement was actually around I
would’ve much rather listened to, say, an AntiSeen album.
As far as the extra
tracks on Disc One goes, at least the “I Saw Your Girlfriend”
song (aka “Summer Babe”) gets reprised, and as
time goes by it’s evident this is one of only a handful
of truly GREAT Pavement songs…along w/ “Lions
(Linden)” and “Sue Me, Jack.” The second
version on Disc One features some truly twisted guitar playing
from whoever manned that position in Malkmus’s empire.
Once again, there’s no credits, and let’s face
it, who actually remembers the guitar player’s name
in Pavement? Do you remember when Lisa Carver and her friends
in Rollerderby took the press photo from one of those Pavement
albs from the mid-nineties and literally DISSECTED ‘em
for their SEX appeal? And that’s the whole point…Pavement
never come off sounding like fun guys, like even the Misfits
or somebody. They’re just these smarmy nondescript little
guys who think they’re smarter than everybody else.
But that doesn’t make ‘em bad guys coz they probably
ARE smarter ‘n almost anybody else coz, let’s
face it, most people are bloody morons! So god bless ‘em
for telling the truth (as always)!
Disc Two is a whole
‘nother ball of wax, and in many ways BETTER coz it
contains the great Watery, Domestic EP which was
one of the signposts of the whole nineties era altho’
I think the only reason I bought it initially was coz it reprised
the cover o’ the Ambergris alb from 1970, which was
just a bunch o’ session hacks down in Nashville plowing
thru a rather innocuous platter o’ semi-mainstream (for
the time anyway) puzz. One of the ALL-TIME loser LPs that
haunted the cutout bins of my youth. Once again, it was just
another example of Pavement’s caustic wit, making ironic
ref to such an object. But it was on this EP, I think that
they really found their groove. Perhaps their two best songs
can be heard here: “Frontwards,” which moves just
like that…frontwards, with a droning understated riff
as gloriously fuzz-muffled as the guitars on “Lady Godiva’s
Operation” while the always-excellent rhythm section
pulls off some calisthenics that make this ultimately simplistic
ditty sound like so much more. What it has to do with is SOUND
SCULPTURING and by now it was becoming evident that this really
was Pavement’s forte. Malkmus sounds like he’s
suddenly become bestowed with authority…his intonations
come off as nothing less than the eponymous summing-up of
a whole generation, a movement if you will (which is certainly
what it was). And the ages burned.
“Lions”
is basically the same song repeated (there is in fact a sameness
to the whole EP) but with trumped-up dynamics, kind of like
comparing “Gimme Shelter” to “Under My Thumb”—this
was the moment to me when the movement really crystallized
itself as an inescapable truth. It’s the best thing
Pavement ever did, and the dynamic tension that sends the
melody bouncing around the monorails of the tune’s one-and-a-half-minute
framework threatens to derail it at any moment. It also contains
one of Malkmus’s smarmiest asides when he makes reference
to “a goal line stance on fourth-and-two…”
But the problem with a line like that, in these circumstances,
is that one inherently understands that Malkmus is ultimately
making FUN of football, which is kind of smarmy in itself—but
no smarmier than the Karl Hendrix Trio’s “When
Will The Goddamn Poor Rise Up” or 9/10ths o’ the
other stuff from the era. It’s just that Malkmus was
the king of it, and this song proves why. However, I never
liked track 4 from Watery, “Shoot the Singer”—and
once again, even the title alone reeks of unctuousness. Because
let’s face it, when it comes to Stevie Malkmouse, I
am reminded by a line from Ice T: “Shee-it! You’d
FAINT punk if you ever heard a gunshot!” I mean if a
guy doesn’t even dig FOOTBALL what ‘re the chances
he’s gonna like fooling around with firearms? Thing
is, when Pavement were at their peak—which is when this
EP originally came out—I actually worked in the post
office! So of course guns were nothing new to me (never mind
football).
I remember when
Colston told me ‘bout this alb, I asked him if “Sue
Me Jack” was on it coz as far as I was concerned that
was the great lost Pavement single, but he waxed oblivious,
so I of course was delighted when I heard track 5 on Disc
2 which is the elusive “Sue Me,” another one o’
Pavement’s pounding stomping magnum opuses with its
layers of electronic spuzzle, creepy whispering, and Malkmus’s
once again adenoidal screaming. When I first heard it on ‘MBR
in ’92 it was yet more proof to me that there were endless
creative things that remained to be done in the name of independent
music, because this truly was one of the most impressive post-Sonic
Youth uses of sculpted sound and noise-as-rhythm. Admittedly,
the stuff that follows on Disc 2 is nowhere near as auspicious,
but most of it’s still OK. Once again, it would help
if I had a track listing, but it’s not important—let’s
just say that a great deal of the material here, which I guess
manifests the second Peel sessions, combines meandering riffs,
burbles of noise and Malkmus’s monotonous talk-singing
(once again, he’s ultimately another Lou Reed imitator
in the same line that produced Jonathan Richman, Gordon Gano
and Steve Wynn, only UNLIKE those turkeys, at least Malkmyth
added something to it). The live stuff, recorded at Brixton
Academy shortly after Slanted came out, is OK, but
mostly notable for the band’s rendition of an Echo &
the Bunnymen tune—but since I never listened to any
fuckin’ Echo, I don’t recognize it.
So sue me…Jack.
|