A Vital Step for Pearl Jam

        **Disclaimer: This post may be a little longer than normal. If you are not a fan of Pearl Jam, I suggest you stop reading at once and attempt to remedy that problem.

        Recently, I asked Hobo Keith, a soon to be contributor to Dad Rock, to give me a masters course in Bob Dylan. With his ever deepening Robert Zimmy knowledge, he is constructing "essential" cds for each of the 48 (and counting) eras of relevance Dylan traversed through. Starting with the folk-filled, solo acoustic social commentary days, an image was crafted that an adoring public came to fawn over. This was followed by him wanting to evolve and surreptitiously sneaking an electric band into half an album (Bringing It All Back Home). The test run lead to the now famous plugging in at the Newport Folk Festival and subsequent blowing of the gourds of the folksy fanatics. Rock scholars much more knowledgeable than I will be able to hopefully determine someday if the rest of his career worked out. As it turns out, this was far from the only time he morphed styles, but it's that initial change, done as a method of survival, that I've become fascinated with.
        Throughout musical history, artists seems to hit a point where they are tired of doing whatever they do that fans became attracted to in the first place. Due to this adjustment phenomenon, fans are faced with the choice of remaining loyal (i.e. accepting the sound of Bob backed by some instruments attached to amps) or freaking out and renouncing their fandom (see: fans at above mentioned NFF). Though I'm sure that Bob would have his own thoughts on this, one has to wonder if he knew just how bad the reaction was going to be when he made his choice (he probably did and didn't give a poop). Nowadays though, most artists are clear as to how the public is going to react to any change they happen to make. While it may be accepted in time, odds are, the artist is going to lose some fans or at the very least have many clamoring for the sounds of yore. In my college years I watched this happen to The Strokes (with First Impressions of Earth, a bloated yet mostly excellent work), Kings of Leon (with Because of the Times, a very good album, after which they knowingly dove off the d-bag cliff) and the Arctic Monkeys (Humbug, a stark stylistic maturing that may someday be looked back upon more fondly). Due to its seeming inevitability, these mixed results always lead to a certain level of fear for the fan base when they find a new, young band. Just when is a band going to change, and how much?

Home remedies for the musical soul. 

        While each of the three bands mentioned above had varying levels of popularity, none would be considered a truly dominant force in the middle of a musical resolution (with the Strokes coming closest during the early 2000's). Whatever your feelings are on early 90s rock, it was certainly a (welcome) change from 80s video influenced, pyrotechnic filled, hair metal bombast. Nirvana and Pearl Jam helped lead the charge and the general public became full-on obsessed with their sound. With such pressure to sustain popularity, both bands began to veer into new directions. Nirvana started to hit their new phase with In Utero, going back to a much more raw production and eliminating some of the immediacy of the pop hooks of Nevermind. Obviously, we'll never know where else they could have gone or how far they would have strayed from what made them legendary. Pearl Jam, on the other hand, after two massive selling beasts (Ten and Vs.) followed the Dylan road map and chose to do what they wanted to do, regardless of how they masses felt about it.

       This is how we end up with the 1994 cleanser known as Vitalogy. Though it sold extremely well, I say cleanser because whether intentionally or not (arguments can be made for both), this was the tipping point for their career. It was the first hint that they were going to be OK with wiping out, or at the very least confusing, a massive section of their fans. From this point on, no album in the Pearl Jam cadre sold nearly as well. Most people continued to appreciate them for their live shows, but at the same time they were quick to claim to not be as much of a fan of what they were putting out on record. Now, that's not to say they didn't have their loyal, diehard fans intact, but there was certainly a sea change when it came to their view through the public, rock-radio, prism. It was decided; let's mess with the formula. Vedder figured that he needed to learn guitar, and play guitar, even though he was in a band that already had two guitar players. The 1995 tour that went along with Vitalogy also marked the Ticketmaster debacle where they (nobly) attempted to boycott the ticket-selling giant and perform in other venues without exclusivity. While an ultimately heroic gesture to help out a lot of those same fans who would soon renounce the band, it was a markedly failed endeavor. Thankfully the same can't be said about the album. 

        Vitalogy is often looked back upon fondly, but outside of "Betterman" and "Corduroy" there is a strong chance that even some loyal fans can't name you another song. Compare that to the hordes of singles that dripped off their first two albums (along with plenty of other songs that would probably have worked as singles) and a new dynamic was born. Fans were going to be asked to appreciate songs that didn't have an arena-sized (or maybe any) chorus. As someone who became a fan much later in their career, it's quite noticeable how drastic the change was. I wish I had been around to pay attention to the feelings that swept over the fanbase. Pearl Jam (especially Mr. Vedder) seemed to be ready to crawl out of the spotlight and perhaps bash a few overly invasive privacy leeches along the way back to some semblance of normalcy. Vitalogy is a snarling indictment of the media, fans, the industry and most of all, a group of young men figuring out how to live suddenly different lives. Take a walk through this album and as you do, pause for a second to marvel at how biting the commentary seems to be. 

Edward, Michael, Jeffery and Stoneward.

       Years later, the warning signs seem a little more obvious. But just in case you weren't sure, the opening track, "Last Exit" was a literal attempt to give the listener a final chance to bail. A cacophony of instrumentation bleeds into a driving drum beat that is relentless throughout the whole tune. Including a backwards solo and brilliant Vedder wail, it's a final warning to the fans that if you're not cool with what's going on, get off now. From there, "Spin the Black Circle" helps to simultaneously long for the days of vinyl and look into the crystal ball to see it's eventual resurrection. A punishing punk groove careens this song to the point where it sounds as if the band might come apart at the seams. It's a glorious blast through Vedder's love of a seemingly forgotten musical delivery system. Decades later, critics might be shocked to see that both the band and the format are alive and well.

      The clearest middle finger to the overly obsessive fans/media comes next with "Not For You". The second single (hot damn, "StBC" was the first?), it was a direct indictment of the fans ever increasing obsession with knowing everything about the band members. Lines had been crossed, stalkers were stalking and it couldn't have been a comfortable time to be an artist unsure of how to handle everything. This towering beast is as clear a sign as any that something either had to change, or this was the end. Listen to the tortured lyrics as Vedder repeatedly admonishes all that will listen, "this was not for you, it never was for you". This is a man who needs some space. Though many complain about the lack of quality rock music in our world, there is a reason the type of band Pearl Jam was at this point doesn't exist today; the intensity of this invasion of privacy has magnified tenfold. Who could, or would want to, deal with that?

       As someone who certainly can't claim to have been on the ground floor with the band, it's possible that right away fans didn't quite pick up on the seemingly obvious swipes within the lyrics "take my time, not my life" or song titles ("Nothingman") but the odd musical interludes are as clear as could be. Sandwiching the "still missing a big time chorus" fan favorite, "Corduroy" are two prime examples. First up, "Pry, To", a one minute jam that has Vedder repeatedly spelling out the word privacy. No subtext here. Leave us alone. Next comes "Bugs", a messed up accordion (??) ballad that has Vedder ruminating on what to do with an invasive bug species (the media, fans, probably both), settling finally on giving up and joining them. This is no accident. They really wanted the fans to have to work. 

           This phenomenon happens again later in the album with their third single, "Immortality". The beautiful and touching (supposed tribute to Cobain) is smack dab in the middle of the oddly chanting amble of "Aye Davanita" and the moderately-to-extremely disturbing, little girl sounding insane and possibly referencing suicide "Hey Foxmophandlemama, That's Me". Putting two of the most popular and accessible tunes between such enigmatic curiosities is a sure sign of their reluctance to be a part of the continued level of stardom they had been living with. This, in combination with putting each of these on the second half of the album say we'll give you what want, but you are going to have to wade through an awful lot of muck to get there. 

Currently using the force to strangle an invasive photographer. 

       It needs to be said that though some digging has to occur, when you remove the detritus, there are some fantastic songs on this album. "Nothingman" is a heartbreaking, slow look at a man who is having trouble finding his identity. It's a great example of the versatility of Vedder voice. He layers it on top of itself in an attempt to create an effortless harmony that helps to bring the mood to another level. As mentioned above, "Corduroy" is another standout effort, bubbling with hatred right below the surface on a churning traipse that fans clamor to hear live to this day. The aggressive romp of "Whipping" is a hard charging testament to the strength required to survive in the world that they were anxious to leave behind. The blistering bass work of Jeff Ament in combination with the frenetic fretwork of McCready and Gossard brings about an urgency that helps to put you inside the chaotic headspace they must have been occupying. "Satan's Bed", with it's killer whip-crack opening, has a strange pace that almost has Vedder scatting as the song starts. An ode to dissuading the uninvited groupies who constantly threw themselves at the band, it's an excellent look at how something that might seem like heaven to some can seem like hell to others. 

       The one song that doesn't seem to fit at all is also the one that has the most notoriety, by far. "Betterman" is quite personal, much like all the tracks on the album, but something is different. Unlike the others it's missing an immediacy. This is the only time Vedder reaches back into the past, and in the context of the album it's easy to see why he didn't even want to include it. It may be well known, and a fan favorite to sing along to in concert, but it sticks out as the one track that would have made much more sense on one of the first two albums. Vedder was all about reclaiming personal space, so another song about his troubled childhood would seem to deliver the opposite of what he was going for here. One could assume the record label may have pushed them to include it after hearing everything else.  "Tremor Christ", on the other hand, while nowhere near as successful a song has a much more veiled meaning. Buried within the guitar's stabbing odd counterpoint dance with the bass is the same confused little boy found within "Betterman", but now he's grappling with how to deal with those feelings instead of just documenting the past. 

Shh! You're happiness is too loud. 

       It seems to be a testament to the talent of the band or to the gullibility of their fans that such a scathing group of battle-scarred songs became as notable a collection as Vitalogy did. Most likely, this album only sold so well as a result of the massive success of their first two albums. While I love and appreciate this album as much as any other in their catalog, it's hard to argue with that claim when you analyze what they presented to a blood thirsty fanbase that was craving more mega hits. From all accounts, this was a rough time within the band. Certain members (read: everyone other than Vedder) didn't want to alienate any fans while others felt the herd needed to be thinned out. As tempting as it was to attempt to advance their ever-growing fame, if you look back, this may have been the move that saved their career. Without this change in mindset, they may have bloated to the point of parody or stayed at the unsustainable level of fame and possibly lost a member or two to drugs. It seems quite likely that another Ten or Vs. might have been the beginning of the end. Instead, Vitalogy is now able to sit back and be a wolf in sheeps clothes in the long career of a seminal band. 

Final Score: .89 You're Living All Over Me's

Dick Dank Challenge #3: Orchestrating Simple Math

(Quick note from the desk of the FishLantern: Every so often Dick Dank and I will be "challenging" each other to listen to an album we haven't heard before, reviewing it after only a few listens. The hope would be that these lead to amazing revelations and deep insights that allow us to connect like covalent bonds over a new-found passion. In all likelihood, that will happen about a third of the time. Realistically, it will end up as a somewhat messy review packed with things we'll want to go back and change. In fact it's almost a guarantee we'll want to start from scratch after one only more listen or diving deeper into said album multiple times later in life. Let's see em'!)

     Sir Dankington felt that it was time for me to be exposed to some straightforward rock and or roll. After having dipped my toes into the world of The Stranglers and Destroyer, he has bestowed upon me the task of investigating Manchester Orchestra's Simple Math. Clearly, by writing for this site, we both have the urge to try and quantify an unquantifiable thing (music). This becomes inherently difficult because it's created on a different plane of thinking, especially for those of us (read: me) that have no real musical training. I feel this is why, when given something new to listen to, my first instinct is to attempt to find connections to other bands. This allows me to compare, compartmentalize and list the influences or similarities I hear. As the PhDank wrote when reviewing The Dead Trees, if we can attach their sound to a band we like, we've found a way of saying that we enjoy what we're hearing, without outwardly doing so (because you know, feelings are icky). It's dangerous though, because there are issues that can arise when one takes this approach. For one, the album could sound like bands we don't enjoy (which isn't the case here). Plus, it could sound like what we think certain bands sound like, even though we haven't listened to said bands enough to make an accurate judgement (very possibly the case here). Or, we can spend our time trying to force bands into a classified hole of the pigeon variety because it's what we know (very likely the case here). I'd like to think being aware of this will help me work through it when reviewing this album. It doesn't.

Simple Cover

      Throughout my first few listens into this 2011 release I hear (in no particular order) Modest Mouse, My Morning Jacket and tinges of Built to Spill. The problem becomes that I "hear" these bands but I only know one of them (BTS) well enough to speak confidently about. I've managed to leave myself in the odd position of therefore not being able to vouch for my own statement. This bothers me. Not because I don't enjoy the music, because I certainly do. More so, it bugs me because it's a reminder that the amount of music out there that I don't know enough (or anything) about is seemingly insurmountable.  For the time being though, I still have enough knowledge on said comparison bands that I don't feel like a completely asinine fool for making the connection. I dread the day when that is no longer the case.

      Simple Math is a reminder of why it's important to, at the very least, continue trying. The opening track, "Deer" is where the initial smack of MMJ struck me. The vocal line was a beautiful combination of styles that only exists in this modern period of music. Hearing it build with harmonies and horns only added to the connection. The separation came when the song ended, because if Jim James had been at the helm, the song would have built to a resounding conclusion. In this instance however, "Deer" ends with a feeling of resignation. The second track, "Mighty" opens with a dingy, heavy rock sound that is a complete 180. Filled with darkness and lush orchestration, the track is my first glimpse into their mutating sound.

      A prime example of this is "Pensacola", which comes across as their most poppy, accessible tune. Doubled vocals and a building rock beat groove along nicely at the outset. Twinges of Doug Martsch's semi-strained vocals appear for the first time. The quiet pre-chorus provides a nice respite leading into the drunken sailor, horn-amplified, shout-along shanty of a chorus/outro. Despite the somewhat downtrodden lyrical topics (as seen throughout), this tune seems like it would be an absolutely raucous time live. The apparent Doug-fluence continues with "Pale Black Eye". The stop-start nature of the guitar/drums, the weaving of the vocals/guitars in the chorus and the space to breathe amongst the keys and strings provide a familiar Spill-ian background that soothes me nicely. 

     Modest Mouse rears it's influential head with the start of "Virgin". Isaac Brock has a way of always sounding on the verge of absolute insanity, even when singing softly, and that shows up here. I always picture him singing wild-eyed and among the littered remains of various elements that failed to help him sleep for the last three days. That urgency, or missing sense of resolution, can be found throughout the vocal delivery, while again the orchestra is used quite nicely in combination with a horn section and a....children's choir? For whatever reason, a children's choir has always given me an uneasy feeling. In this case, hearing them sing about heavy topics presented me with a fascinating dichotomy that simultaneously intrigued me and gave me a slight case of the heebie-jeebies. Perhaps that was the point? 

        The opening vocal line of the title track again elicits some Jim Jamesian memories. Unlike "Deer", the similarities continue beyond the quiet beginnings, stretching into the build, the quiet bridge and the crashing conclusion. It's a really well done song that I know I am going to appreciate more when I have the time to absorb the lyrics. Throughout the first few listens, this is something that became quite clear; the content of the lyrics might be the thing I can end up relating to and appreciating the most in time. It's really cool to have a band that wraps up heavy ideas in catchy and enjoyable musical blanket, allowing me to unveil and appreciate the underlying heaviness only after repeated listens.  

       The album closes with, in my opinion, two of the better tracks. A catchy lick that reappears throughout starts off my initial favorite song, "Apprehension". It slithers in a way that is both comfortable and unexpected at the same time. The churning, viking ship-like drum beat of the chorus summons you to the return of that infectious lick, encircling the song in that strange combination of hopeful despair. The duplicate guitars that introduce you to the final track, "Leaky Breaks" almost have a prog-rock feel to them (as does the seven plus minute length), but that is quickly replaced by reserved vocals and minimal instrumentation. The tune moves along at this languid pace, allowing for a few excellent solos (great tone) that help to bring you back from the (lyrical) cliff of sadness. As mentioned before, I feel this musical life raft is going to seem all the more necessary once I get deeper into the content and context. 

Except my analysis of it of course.

       In the end, aping your influences is a fine line to walk. In one way, it can be seen as a badge of honor. A band is essentially professing "this is who we like and we're fine with sounding like them." At other times though, the "influence" can stray dangerously close to being an outright facsimile or at the very least a poorly done copy. It's excellent to pull from those you love and appreciate, but at the same time you want to create your own little musical niche that you can build on. Manchester Orchestra does a jim-dandy job of taking the acts (I think) they sound like and sewing them throughout their songs in a way that is more of a doff of the cap and less of a treacherous smash and grab theft. Unless you're in the brain of John Frusciante, there have been 40-50 solid years now where bands have attempted to find ways to reinvent the musical wheel. As someone who often fails in his attempts to immediately quantify what I hear, this is both a blessing and a curse. I've got plenty to draw from, but I wonder if I'm missing the real connection. Thankfully, it seems that MO has left sprinkles of bread crumbs showing where they came from, all the while leaving plenty of room to expand out on their own.

Final Score: .82 Dick Danksing All Over Me's

How's the tempo of the music, friend? Suit ya?

Doing his best impression of a Steve Kindlon yearbook photo.

Whenever an established artist changes gears stylistically, it tends to draw criticism from even the most loyal fans. Whether it be Bob Dylan picking up an electric guitar, Neil Young throwing everyone a curveball for the majority of a decade, or, more recently, J. Tillman donning the moniker Father John Misty (foreshadowing?), they are invariably met with some degree of resistance from the existing fan base.

Some people chalk this phenomenon up to the artist "losing it" or selling out. Others adhere to the less cynical and more interesting proposal of Advanced Genius Theory, which posits that some artists are such geniuses that they eventually transcend the tastes and understanding of the rest of society. As an ardent John Frusciante fanboi, I choose to believe the latter, and I am singling out his 2012 EP Letur-Lefr as the turning point of his Advancement.

Good thing he's a musician and not a painter.

The album opens with "In Your Eyes". Its bright, warbly intro reminds me of Frusciante's earlier solo album To Record Only Water For Ten Days, but much more polished and 3-dimensional. Rather than trying to hide the drum machine, he emphasizes it and makes full use of its abilities. Where he used to simulate synth-like tones and melodies with his guitar, he now unabashedly employs actual synthesizers. The most dramatic difference since TROWFTD is John's vastly improved vocal abilities. His trademark falsetto is in full force, accompanied here by back-up vocals from his wife, Nicole Turley (surprised I didn't say Josh?). The song changes gears halfway through, devolving into an electronic schizophrenic break-beat, before regaining composure. Fear not, guitar aficionados, there are licks to be had here, although they are low in the mix to start, but then gain prominence towards the end of the track.

The next song "909 Day" is the first hint of Wu-Tang influence on this EP, mostly drawing from Rza's trademark production prowess. John chops up vocal samples from films over quick flashes of rap vocals contributed by Rza, Leggezin Fin, Masia One (perhaps the most famous Canadian-Singaporean female rapper), and Kinetic 9. Rarely does he allow an MC to spit out a complete line, rather he pans from lyric to lyric. Clearly, he's treating the voice here just like any other instrument (a philosophy that I tend to be a proponent of). All this is bound together by a simple but beautiful synth melody that builds as the song goes on. Similarly, "Glowe" is a brief interlude track that combines trademark Frusciante tones with a frenetic drum-track and hand-claps. This all gives way to a synthesizer freak-out halfway through. This track, like the entire EP, really lends itself to headphones. There's so much going on here that it's nearly impossible to fully digest it on the first listen. Half-spoken vocals and hints of sound effects are sprinkled throughout.

The fourth track, "FM", is where John truly pays homage to Rza. The song begins with the latter's trademark sped up vocal samples (in this case, some creepy operatic caterwauling) and a raw, pounding drum-track. John manages to deftly parlay this intro into a familiar-sounding synth motif, providing a unique backdrop for the three-headed MC monster of Rza, Kinetic 9, and Rugged Monk to paint over. Rugged Monk and Kinetic 9 are basically Wu-Tang second cousins. Their brief, off-the-cuff rhymes are a fitting reminder of how many talented lyricists are operating outside of the mainstream. The real treats on this track are John's back-up vocals and the grooving guitar track that he lays down in the background. To me, it sounds like his interpretation of early-90s gangster rap guitar parts (see Dre, Dr.) Don't be disappointed in yourself if you missed it the first time, like the rest of Letur-Lefr this track is hard to completely digest in one sitting. For example, it took me a few listens to catch the sample movie line: "How's the tempo of the music, friend? Suit ya? Here's a melody just for you! One of my favorite tunes...", which seems to be a sarcastic jab at any potential detractors of his new-found musical direction.

The EP draws to a close with the more traditional-solo-Froosh sounds of "In My Light". This song features John's best vocals of the album. A swirling synth melody morphs into a funky, head-bobbing breakdown, before giving way to standard JF mainstays: hand-claps and gorgeous falsettos. John gracefully mixes in vocal samples and little guitar pieces to accent the main track. John described this track as the musical prequel to the album's first track, "In Your Eyes", into which it flows rather nicely. This Ouroboros-like construction causes Letur-Lefr to lend itself to repeated, looping listens; as does the short run-time.

To those of you who have listened to Letur-Lefr's full-length follow-up LP, PBX Funicular Intaglio Zone, it shouldn't be surprising that these tracks were recorded during the same sessions. Where Letur-Lefr hints at the direction John was headed at the time, PBX is a full indulgence. John explains that, during the recording of these albums, he finally became proficient enough with creating music from an electronic standpoint, whereas earlier he was still approaching music from a guitar-centric rock-based standpoint (to great effect, in my opinion). This may explain why the sound of these albums can be so jarring for die hard Froosh fans. Although he has always dabbled with electronic elements, such as on Shadows Collide With People and the 2004 collaboration with Josh Klinghoffer, A Sphere in the Heart of Silence, he was always approaching song construction as a rock guitarist. Now, John has full reign over a gamut of electronic instruments and production techniques, as well as the experience and knowledge to create his own musical structures that are no longer dependent on or derivative of traditional rock themes.

Frusciante calls his new music "progressive synth pop" (see the master-level essays on his website for a much more in-depth description of his process) which is an apt label as any, but fear not, he can still make sweet consensual love to guitar. His recent 10-minute guitar solo "Wayne" is a prime example of this. Reminiscent of Eddie Hazel on "Maggot Brain", John squeezes every bit of emotion out of his Fender as a tribute to his dead friend, Wayne Forman. Personally, I hope that John continues to grow and explore new musical techniques, but at the same time, it would be a terrible waste if he didn't occasionally tear it up on six strings, for old time's sake.

Like many people, I've always enjoyed a variety of musical styles. This eclecticism was rapidly accelerated with the aid of the internet. We're pretty much spoiled by the vast universe of music that is at our fingertips. Very few artists are able to become masters in multiple disciplines, but maybe technology can also accelerate an artist's advancement. There are so many tools and reference materials out there now to draw upon, that I can't help but think that a creative trajectory like John's may only be possible in our modern times. I hope he continues to explore new styles and techniques, while staying true to the soulful sounds that make his music so intoxicating and addictive. I'm very interested to see, two decades from now, whether John's recent albums are perceived as ahead of their time or unusual missteps. Based on pure fanboi optimism, I'm betting on the former; and if his own description of his upcoming album Outsides is accurate, John's music will continue to transform itself in bold new ways, while staying true to the pure, impish love of sound that makes him great.

Final Score: .88 Animals

John looking comfortable and relaxed with some more melanin-rich friends.