Sorry to miss a week’s worth of entries. Life has been tres busy. This will probably be a short entry, not only because it is late and I am busy, but because I don’t have that much to say about Soul Asylum. Wikipedia lists them as alternative rock, but really I think they could fairly be called complaint rock. That said, I enjoyed revisiting this album a lot more than I thought I would.
My main memory of “Grave Dancer’s Union” is actually the cover art, which is all green and gray and brown, and shows a woman in a dress leading two naked children down a windy road in what looks like an industrial part of town. It is pretty grim, but really the naked children’s backsides is what stuck with me. It’s pretty off-putting. I was glad that they were slightly obscured on my copy - my friend Nathan, who gave me the album, drew the anarchy symbol on the cover in white ink. So while I listened to the album a fair amount, I tried to avoid looking at the cover. Or more important, having any adult see the cover, and then have to explain that there was nothing perverted or gross about the album.
(Preview Songs)
“Somebody to Shove” - I assume the title here is a take on the phrase and/or Queen song “Somebody to Love.” Perhaps for complaint rock, and outlet for frustration is as important as an outlet for romance. I like the driving guitars and the simple but solid drums. The lyrics alternate between pretension and (presumably unintentional) goofiness. I get the image of waiting by the phone for someone to call, but it is hardly a novel concept.
“Black Gold” - Half of my memory of this song is how Weird Al’s “The Night Santa Went Crazy” sounds like a slightly sped up version of this. It was really surreal when I noticed that. It’s not a perfect match, but too much for coincidence. What is curious about that is the fact that this song came out around seven years before Weird Al’s, and it is hardly the most famous song on the CD. So how did Weird Al pick this for a song about Santa? Who knows. Maybe the line, “Mother, do you know where your kids are tonight?” It suggests parental supervision, which I guess Santa fits into. Anyway, the song is pretty good. I suspect if I listened hard to the lyrics, I would find it silly, but I enjoy just listening to it for the instruments and the sound of his voice.
“Runaway Train” - This was the big radio hit on the album, and easily the winner for whiny-ness on as well. The whole song is pretty much emo rock. “Promised myself I wouldn’t weep. One more promise I couldn’t keep.” “Misery” is worse, but really, this is pretty hard to swallow as an adult. Lines like “Seems like I should be getting somewhere - somehow I’m neither here nor there” don’t help. Whiny *and* unoriginal. I didn’t realize it before, but lyrics are definitely not this bands strong suit. I guess in the grunge / emo climate this was the right kind of song, but it doesn’t work for me now.
“Keep It Up” - It’s strange. In the middle of complaint rock, here we have one of the most relentlessly upbeat songs I know. It comes from a place of suffering, with a resolve to keep trying until things get better. Now that I can get behind. Lyrics aren’t the greatest, but the quick, repeated guitar strums and snare hits drive the song enough that I’m wanting to sing along. And you don’t need to get as deep or as original to be upbeat as to try to explore deep emotions. Plus, there’s a solid bridge with guitar solo. What’s not to like?
“Homesick” - And after a brief respite, back to sadness. This one is more grief, less complaint, so it kind of gets a pass just for being different. The singer tells of being homesick for a home he never had, which while again not super original, is a familiar, true feeling. The slower tempo and cleaner guitars also work in favor of the song for me. If you are going to be sad, give the feelings room to breathe.
“Get On Out” - And right back up to happy. In fact, here we have a song about letting go of anxiety. This and “Keep It Up” fit together, so it is strange not to either have them next to each other or farther apart on the album. As it is, the flow of the album is jarring. I do have to give the band kudos for writing a song about chasing away anxiety. It’s something we all struggle with, but there aren’t many songs that acknowledge the fears at the same time they mount a fight against them. And as anxiety is something I am pretty familiar with, I’m grateful for this song.
“New World” - I have no idea what this song is about, but I like the twangy guitar part, and the cadence of the lyrics. Plus it is in 5/4 and 6/8. That’s pretty cool. Though I do not know if the lyrics make sense as whole, I do appreciate some of the phrases. “When the cold water's on her skin / I can feel how long it's been.” Why does this line work for me? Who knows. It doesn’t necessarily make sense, but I’m not going to worry about it. I’m just going to enjoy.
“April Fool” - This one has a bluesy and kind of nasty edge to it. The drummer bangs out a beat on the tip of the cymbal, making that sound almost like a hammer pounding nails. Or he lets the hi hat ring in a way that somehow seems sinister. And the guitars are muddy and angry. It’s a cool effect, and he adds a sneer to his voice to bring it home. Until the chorus, anyway. The chorus is just driving rock, and then we’re into a swung bridge. The whole song feels like a drug trip that makes the user paranoid and sinister.
“Without a Trace” - I remember liking this song a lot. I believe my brother got into it and forced me to see the light. It also gives the album its title. It could be called the third song in the “happy trilogy” on the album. This despite the opening lyric, “I fell in love with a hooker / she laughed in my face.” Listening to the lyrics now, they are a little slight, but the way the song gets quiet and builds into him saying “leave without a trace” is just plain infectious and exciting. Then they just rock out in the most blissful way possible for a few bars. I would say that this is the definitive song to play when it’s time to get the heck out of dodge. Here’s the lyrics for the title: “I tried to dance at a funeral, New Orleans style / I joined the grave dancer’s union; I had to file.” I do like the idea of dancing as a way of dealing with grief, with putting the past behind you. It reminds me of my aunts doing a little skip-hop thing as they went up to the casket to say goodbye to their sisten Karen.
“Growing Into You” - Shred those guitars! Pound those drums! This song moves along pretty quick, and carries you along with it. But it doesn’t quite reach the levels of greatness I think it wants to. That said, I certainly identified with the lyric, “There’s one thing that I know that’s perfectly clear: you never grow out of fear.” However, in my life now, I would say that you can grow out of fear. Or at least you can make progress.
“99%” - I *hated* this song originally. *Hated* it. It is scratchy and distorted and more sneering than “April Fool.” As a teenager, I thought it was just noise. And it kind of is. But I’m more forgiving of the experimental and the intentionally dissonant now than I was then. Wonder if that makes me mature, or pretentious. Anyway, I kind of enjoy this one now. And again, who knows why, but I like these lyrics: “Once in a while / you get on my nerves / Once in a while / you get what you deserve”. This song also - needlessly - drops the f-bomb, which I could do without. Then it just gets more and more distorted as it careens to a close. Though I like that now. See also: Sufjan Steven’s “Upper Peninsula” and “Loverless Bed (Without Remission)”.
“Sun Maid” - We close on a sad and sweet song. I think he is singing to the sun as if it were a woman, but there could be a deeper meaning. Anyway, it sounds kind of like the complaint rock version of a lullaby, and they even bring in some low brass. It’s a very mellow way to end the album, and I like it. “Without you it’s cold and stark / We would all be dark.” Those lyrics are as simplistic as any of the others here that I criticized, yet I like it. Maybe it is the simple way he expresses gratitude. The bridge in this song has some stringed instruments, and for a little bit it reminded me of parts of last week’s entry, “Before These Crowded Streets.” Weird to find connections like that.
I almost feel like there are two albums here. One that mirrors my kind of optimism, the kind that acknowledges the things that stink and resolves to do the best it can, and another that just wallows in sadness and angst and frustration. I suppose these are the two voices in the soul of the singer. What is strange is that they seem to oscillate back and forth every song. Or maybe not so strange. I’ve had weeks or days or even hours like that.
Next up: Everclear, and a discussion of the impact (or lack of impact) of religion on music tastes.
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