7.14.2005
Repulsion
Still more reissue/reunion fodder, this time from Dinosaur Jr. I couldn't have been more into a band as I was about the time Bug came out. It hit at just the right time, as the freedoms of college were taking hold and the realization that things that required some work might actually be more rewarding than things that came easily. That didn't apply to my studies, of course, but it did mean that listening to a glorious swirl of sludgy noise like "Post" from Bug until it actually made sense seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to do.
The band is back after an acrimonious break up (the story of the band's show at Iowa City's Gabe's Oasis, complete with coin throwing by the angry crowd, is still legend) and a decade of decreasingly satisfying records from guitarist J Mascis and increasingly (and then decreasingly, as if following a perfect bell curve) records from bassist Lou Barlow. I caught them on the Craig Ferguson show just as this current tour was starting, and their run through "The Lung" was ragged and even less tuneful than the original. It didn't bode well for a successful reunion, yet reviews have been favorable.
An interview with the band in the latest Village Voice reminded me of something I'd been thinking about a couple of weeks ago when listening to the entire Minutemen discography in the car as I drove back and forth to work for a week or so. Bands don't sound like that any more. Even the most underground, indie band sounds absolutely polished when compared to the Minutemen or Dinosaur Jr. or even the early efforts of the Replacements, Husker Du and R.E.M. Bands aren't afforded the opportunity to go into a basement studio to cut an EP, put it out, play some shows, cut another EP six months later and continue the process as they build a fan base and get progressively better. Now, they sound totally processed right from the get-go. Look at hot alternative bands now (and ignore groups like the Killers et al who shouldn't even count as alternative) like Arcade Fire. They won't make it onto Hot 100 playlists any time soon, but they're light years ahead of the muddy offerings of Dinosaur's first three discs.
In the Voice interview, Barlow talks about the fact that the band had a lot of creative ambition, but no other ambition. "With Dinosaur, we weren't really afraid of letting things totally fall apart. I don't really see that now; you don't really see things that are emotional and sort of unaffected. It would be nice to see a band that really didn't have any idea what they were doing."
Amen. There is a lot to be said for music that is ragged but right. And perhaps the raft of attention being paid to these old bands will help to show young groups that it's OK to do some growing up in public.
The band is back after an acrimonious break up (the story of the band's show at Iowa City's Gabe's Oasis, complete with coin throwing by the angry crowd, is still legend) and a decade of decreasingly satisfying records from guitarist J Mascis and increasingly (and then decreasingly, as if following a perfect bell curve) records from bassist Lou Barlow. I caught them on the Craig Ferguson show just as this current tour was starting, and their run through "The Lung" was ragged and even less tuneful than the original. It didn't bode well for a successful reunion, yet reviews have been favorable.
An interview with the band in the latest Village Voice reminded me of something I'd been thinking about a couple of weeks ago when listening to the entire Minutemen discography in the car as I drove back and forth to work for a week or so. Bands don't sound like that any more. Even the most underground, indie band sounds absolutely polished when compared to the Minutemen or Dinosaur Jr. or even the early efforts of the Replacements, Husker Du and R.E.M. Bands aren't afforded the opportunity to go into a basement studio to cut an EP, put it out, play some shows, cut another EP six months later and continue the process as they build a fan base and get progressively better. Now, they sound totally processed right from the get-go. Look at hot alternative bands now (and ignore groups like the Killers et al who shouldn't even count as alternative) like Arcade Fire. They won't make it onto Hot 100 playlists any time soon, but they're light years ahead of the muddy offerings of Dinosaur's first three discs.
In the Voice interview, Barlow talks about the fact that the band had a lot of creative ambition, but no other ambition. "With Dinosaur, we weren't really afraid of letting things totally fall apart. I don't really see that now; you don't really see things that are emotional and sort of unaffected. It would be nice to see a band that really didn't have any idea what they were doing."
Amen. There is a lot to be said for music that is ragged but right. And perhaps the raft of attention being paid to these old bands will help to show young groups that it's OK to do some growing up in public.
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I like my bands to be spontaneous, nasty, and rebellious - all of the things my life is not.
Well, although that's not completely true as I ran a red light the other day (Red Light, Red Light, Run It, c'mon Westerberg told me to). That kind of vicarious trip is also affirmed by the idea that if it sounds unpolished enough, it might be something I could actually create. Much like a spatter art painting that retails for hundreds of thousands of dollars. That analogy may not in apply in spirit, but in execution.
I had the feeling that when I listened to old Mats or D Jr. that I might be able to play along with "Yeah We Know" (which I actually did on Brent Robinson's drums), or write a song like "Customer." It seemed so easy. Accessible in a different way. "Post" wasn't accessible in the common sense of the word, but if you were pissed and needed to know that someone else out there had some anger issues, well that was the tune you cued. It's not unlike the reason what the Greeks loved tragedy. Not matter how bad it got, Oedipus had it worse.
I can't stand Spoon. They played a horrendous live show at First Avenue. Just as I was waiting for their songs to kick in and go in another direction like D. Boon would do, the song would end. (Sorry for putting D. Boon in the same sentence as Spoon). It's this listless attitude, like, hey, let's write a ton of songs that music-starved teens are pining for and make barrels full of money.
Or you can say a four-letter word and kick out some nasty stuff like the Black Keys. Of course, they don't belong in this conversation at all of "new" bands.
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Well, although that's not completely true as I ran a red light the other day (Red Light, Red Light, Run It, c'mon Westerberg told me to). That kind of vicarious trip is also affirmed by the idea that if it sounds unpolished enough, it might be something I could actually create. Much like a spatter art painting that retails for hundreds of thousands of dollars. That analogy may not in apply in spirit, but in execution.
I had the feeling that when I listened to old Mats or D Jr. that I might be able to play along with "Yeah We Know" (which I actually did on Brent Robinson's drums), or write a song like "Customer." It seemed so easy. Accessible in a different way. "Post" wasn't accessible in the common sense of the word, but if you were pissed and needed to know that someone else out there had some anger issues, well that was the tune you cued. It's not unlike the reason what the Greeks loved tragedy. Not matter how bad it got, Oedipus had it worse.
I can't stand Spoon. They played a horrendous live show at First Avenue. Just as I was waiting for their songs to kick in and go in another direction like D. Boon would do, the song would end. (Sorry for putting D. Boon in the same sentence as Spoon). It's this listless attitude, like, hey, let's write a ton of songs that music-starved teens are pining for and make barrels full of money.
Or you can say a four-letter word and kick out some nasty stuff like the Black Keys. Of course, they don't belong in this conversation at all of "new" bands.
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