#10
The Souls of Men & Women, Impassioned All...
Oh… what a vicious world it is we inhabit these days. I refer of course to the period in which this review was keyed (October 2007, in the middle of an August which looked a bit like summer). Before then, things were just a bit “mwah.”
In these dark times, bands like 10,000 Maniacs seem to make it all right. Without wishing to dwell on the gloom too much (heaven forefend) we need protection from the onslaught of another war and the fact as a planet things might get a bit too gaseous and smog-filled for us to breathe in 2034. Since the UN, NATO and the EEC can do sod all for us right now, why not take solace in classic eighties collegiate rock albums in the meantime? Or build a bomb shelter and hide. Drop me an e-mail if you’d like to book a place (standing room only, no gas masks supplied).
In My Tribe cannot combat disease and the mildew of civilisation but it gives things a damned fine polish all the same. This release from 1987 is a triumph of jangle pop melodies, rich and socially astute vocals and sublime musicianship from a concerned bunch of intellectual New Yorkers. In the limited camp of essential LPs which attempt to rattle the cage and thwart the status quo until people LISTEN, this triumph of a record is miles ahead of the rest.
It captures the inherent goodness in humanity and shakes its head at those who fail to understand why we were put on this Earth in the first place. Yes… to write reviews on websites no-one ever reads the whole way through, and to embarrass oneself in front of snobbish librarians. Not a lot else to existence, really…
What’s The Matter Here? has become an alternative rock classic to cherish for time immemorial, and the finest tune about child abuse ever composed. The ecstatic jangle guitars belie the horrors expressed through the campfire squall of lead songstress Natalie Merchant who narrates a sympathetic portrait of a family taking unjust disciplinarian methods against their child. The lead guitar from maestro Robert Buck lifts this piece into a sublime third act which attains a moving climax on its own uncompromising terms. Merchant grips onto the moral high ground and squeezes throughout, but pushes so emotion from her words her message becomes impossible to ignore.
Hey Jack Kerouac is a self-explanatory tribute to the popular author of On The Road, an influential and skittish text I read four or five years ago to this date. I never caught onto his legendary status myself, but he was no slouch in the scribe department that’s for sure. Those seeking an intellectual critique can seek elsewhere. Perhaps Jack would be proud of this swinging tribute? A beatific sound keeps it fast and energetic with a neat keyboard swish from Dennis Drew.
Like The Weather is an ode to depression and gloom which lifts me from the “dull torpor” mentioned in the lyrics until I am swimming in mirth and committing huggish behaviour. Cherry Tree is beautiful – a gentle and understanding look at adult illiteracy with a spine-chilling acoustic guitar bridge from Buck. Tremendous bass guitar accompaniment comes from Steven Gustafson.
The Painted Desert opens with a masterful drum thwack from co-composer and drummer Jerome Augustyniak and creates an aural palate larger than the Aussie outback. What is this one about? Who knows, but it is evocative and powerful in ways most eighties acts never ever achieved throughout their pitiful careers. Wasn’t the eighties terrible? I do believe it was.
Don’t Talk boasts a large arena-rock sound with glorious U2 guitars before it sways into a lighter-waving chorus of humbling proportions. The chorus is more accessible than the elegiac verses, but the same moving climax comes soaring from the swirling instrumentation on a number of occasions so do not fret. I believe this tune is about the pain endured through another’s disgraceful lies. Merchant sounds hurt here and that comes through. You better believe it. Sublime solos from Buck fill out the five minute duration.
Peace Train was snipped from the second pressing of this album for political reasons. Cat Stevens suffered from foot-in-mouth syndrome and the band distanced themselves from his comments. This does nothing to detract from the quality of this innocuous cover version where Merchant pushes the preachiness to such an extent we want to go around cuddling everyone. And why not?
Gun Shy is an anti-war anthem which defines the phrases “quietly chilling” and “humbly effective.” With a forlorn vocal and eerie organ lead, the regrettable verses coast along with silent rage until the chorus says it all with panache: “Well I knew, I could see, it was all cut and dry to me… there was soldier’s blue blood streaming in your veins.”
My Sister Rose is a little self-indulgent and ups the cheese factor to gas mark four. Still, it would take someone of quite an unpleasant temperament to dislike the mambo shimmer of this ode to marriage. I might just be that someone. A Campfire Song boasts a low-key guest turn from Michael Stipe which turns out to be the finest aspect of the tune, until Merchant ups the ante with her chilling refrain of: “Lonely lonely lonely man!”
City of Angels is bizarre and comes close to dud status with the off-key mandolin part and the dank wooble of the keyboard. Like the word “wooble?” It is amazing what the mind will comes up with when proper words elude one.
Verdi Cries ends the album and is the finest piece Natalie Merchant has ever composed; a haunting aubade on the piano with spine-chilling cello accompaniment from Dennis Karmazyn. Her gentle choruses somehow encapsulate the cryptic sadness in the verses; as though lamenting all that has fallen to ruin in the affairs of the world in one afternoon. This is spellbinding stuff and with the string arrangements, forces me into two whole tears upon its closing perfect cadence. Magnificent, unforgettable music.
In My Tribe surely lurks in all record collections somewhere? To ignore this timeless album is to deny the very process of life itself. All those who run in fear from its enchanting beauty and earthbound poetry are surely evil specimens of humanity. Recommended to all those with a pulse.
Rating: 9/10
The Souls of Men & Women, Impassioned All...
Oh… what a vicious world it is we inhabit these days. I refer of course to the period in which this review was keyed (October 2007, in the middle of an August which looked a bit like summer). Before then, things were just a bit “mwah.”
In these dark times, bands like 10,000 Maniacs seem to make it all right. Without wishing to dwell on the gloom too much (heaven forefend) we need protection from the onslaught of another war and the fact as a planet things might get a bit too gaseous and smog-filled for us to breathe in 2034. Since the UN, NATO and the EEC can do sod all for us right now, why not take solace in classic eighties collegiate rock albums in the meantime? Or build a bomb shelter and hide. Drop me an e-mail if you’d like to book a place (standing room only, no gas masks supplied).In My Tribe cannot combat disease and the mildew of civilisation but it gives things a damned fine polish all the same. This release from 1987 is a triumph of jangle pop melodies, rich and socially astute vocals and sublime musicianship from a concerned bunch of intellectual New Yorkers. In the limited camp of essential LPs which attempt to rattle the cage and thwart the status quo until people LISTEN, this triumph of a record is miles ahead of the rest.
It captures the inherent goodness in humanity and shakes its head at those who fail to understand why we were put on this Earth in the first place. Yes… to write reviews on websites no-one ever reads the whole way through, and to embarrass oneself in front of snobbish librarians. Not a lot else to existence, really…
What’s The Matter Here? has become an alternative rock classic to cherish for time immemorial, and the finest tune about child abuse ever composed. The ecstatic jangle guitars belie the horrors expressed through the campfire squall of lead songstress Natalie Merchant who narrates a sympathetic portrait of a family taking unjust disciplinarian methods against their child. The lead guitar from maestro Robert Buck lifts this piece into a sublime third act which attains a moving climax on its own uncompromising terms. Merchant grips onto the moral high ground and squeezes throughout, but pushes so emotion from her words her message becomes impossible to ignore.
Hey Jack Kerouac is a self-explanatory tribute to the popular author of On The Road, an influential and skittish text I read four or five years ago to this date. I never caught onto his legendary status myself, but he was no slouch in the scribe department that’s for sure. Those seeking an intellectual critique can seek elsewhere. Perhaps Jack would be proud of this swinging tribute? A beatific sound keeps it fast and energetic with a neat keyboard swish from Dennis Drew.
Like The Weather is an ode to depression and gloom which lifts me from the “dull torpor” mentioned in the lyrics until I am swimming in mirth and committing huggish behaviour. Cherry Tree is beautiful – a gentle and understanding look at adult illiteracy with a spine-chilling acoustic guitar bridge from Buck. Tremendous bass guitar accompaniment comes from Steven Gustafson.
The Painted Desert opens with a masterful drum thwack from co-composer and drummer Jerome Augustyniak and creates an aural palate larger than the Aussie outback. What is this one about? Who knows, but it is evocative and powerful in ways most eighties acts never ever achieved throughout their pitiful careers. Wasn’t the eighties terrible? I do believe it was.Don’t Talk boasts a large arena-rock sound with glorious U2 guitars before it sways into a lighter-waving chorus of humbling proportions. The chorus is more accessible than the elegiac verses, but the same moving climax comes soaring from the swirling instrumentation on a number of occasions so do not fret. I believe this tune is about the pain endured through another’s disgraceful lies. Merchant sounds hurt here and that comes through. You better believe it. Sublime solos from Buck fill out the five minute duration.
Peace Train was snipped from the second pressing of this album for political reasons. Cat Stevens suffered from foot-in-mouth syndrome and the band distanced themselves from his comments. This does nothing to detract from the quality of this innocuous cover version where Merchant pushes the preachiness to such an extent we want to go around cuddling everyone. And why not?
Gun Shy is an anti-war anthem which defines the phrases “quietly chilling” and “humbly effective.” With a forlorn vocal and eerie organ lead, the regrettable verses coast along with silent rage until the chorus says it all with panache: “Well I knew, I could see, it was all cut and dry to me… there was soldier’s blue blood streaming in your veins.”
My Sister Rose is a little self-indulgent and ups the cheese factor to gas mark four. Still, it would take someone of quite an unpleasant temperament to dislike the mambo shimmer of this ode to marriage. I might just be that someone. A Campfire Song boasts a low-key guest turn from Michael Stipe which turns out to be the finest aspect of the tune, until Merchant ups the ante with her chilling refrain of: “Lonely lonely lonely man!”
City of Angels is bizarre and comes close to dud status with the off-key mandolin part and the dank wooble of the keyboard. Like the word “wooble?” It is amazing what the mind will comes up with when proper words elude one.
Verdi Cries ends the album and is the finest piece Natalie Merchant has ever composed; a haunting aubade on the piano with spine-chilling cello accompaniment from Dennis Karmazyn. Her gentle choruses somehow encapsulate the cryptic sadness in the verses; as though lamenting all that has fallen to ruin in the affairs of the world in one afternoon. This is spellbinding stuff and with the string arrangements, forces me into two whole tears upon its closing perfect cadence. Magnificent, unforgettable music.
In My Tribe surely lurks in all record collections somewhere? To ignore this timeless album is to deny the very process of life itself. All those who run in fear from its enchanting beauty and earthbound poetry are surely evil specimens of humanity. Recommended to all those with a pulse.
Rating: 9/10
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