THE 2006 TOURNAMENT OF TUNES
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THE ELVIS REGIONAL
Built to
Spill - Untrustable Part 2 [WM]
vs.
Ted Leo -
Loyal to My Sorrowful Country
[mp3]
Here we
have a real battle of extremes: density versus simplicity, epic versus folk
song, personal versus political, long versus short, meticulous studio
production versus one-off recording. Whichever song prevails will depend on
wherever my tastes happen to be tending at the moment.
On the one
hand, I love the simplicity of Ted Leo—just him in a studio, banging away at
his electric guitar, howling against what our country has become during the
past six long years, doing his own small part to fix what’s gone so wrong.
There’s little doubt of what he’s singing about, or where his sympathies lie.
But on the
other hand, I also love the epic ambition of Doug Martsch and Built to
Spill—the nearly nine minutes of running time, the unhurried pace, the lush and
meticulous production, the tempo shifts, and the ambiguity of the lyrics, which
seem to be about questioning one’s religious faith. However, despite having
plenty of time to clearly deliver his narrative point, it’s unclear whether Martsch
is telling the person he’s addressing that he or she needs faith, or whether
it’s perfectly alright to do without—whether he’s evangelizing or saying live
and let live.
Both songs
have their strong and distinctive merits. But at this precise moment in time, I
find myself more engaged by the mental image of a lone Ted Leo in a shadowy
studio, quixotically but clearly railing against the powers that be, than by
Doug Martsch leaving things opaque and fussing over details during
post-production. Leo’s immediacy wins out, and “Loyal to My Sorrowful Country”
continues its idealistic quest.
Winner: Ted Leo - Loyal to My Sorrowful Country
Morphine –
Whisper [RealAudio]
vs.
Scruffy the
Cat - You Dirty Rat
Each of
these wonderful bands passed from existence in its own sad way—Morphine
dissolving after its mastermind Mark Sandman died of a heart attack onstage in
Rome in 1999, Scruffy the Cat breaking up less suddenly but no less poignantly
after years of indifference from their record label. As I’ve mentioned earlier,
Sandman’s death and Morphine’s demise were all the more tragic for the
intriguing possibilities suggested by The Night, the band’s brilliant
final album which they were working on at the time of Sandman’s death. The new
directions that Sandman and Morphine might have pursued, as hinted at by that
album, are ultimately heartbreaking with the recongition that they will never
be realized.
While never
earning the critical accolades of Morphine, their Boston brethren, Scruffy the
Cat plugged along in amiable and earnest near-obscurity, releasing two LPs and
two EPs between 1986 and 1988 before finally calling it quits during the early
1990s. I met the band’s frontman Charlie Chesterman after a Chicago club show
in 1989, when he hinted to me that things were not at all well with their
record label, Relativity. Though he didn’t get into details, the impression I
got was that the band received little support or recognition from the label. I
didn’t hear much more about them until several years later, when I heard they
had officially broken up. A sad passing of a truly wonderful band--Tiny Days,
their first LP, will forever be one of my favorites. But their second LP was
clearly the lesser of the two, suggesting that the band wasn’t on a creative
upsurge at the time of their demise, and Chesterman’s 1994 solo debut, while
enjoyable, didn’t offer anything particularly innovative either.
All of
which tells me that maybe Scruffy the Cat just had a few good years, and it was
simply their time to go, an impression which I definitely don’t hold for
Morphine. Morphine had their best years still ahead of them when Mark Sandman
died. This puts Morphine ahead of Scruffy the Cat in my musical pantheon. And
while “Whisper” is one of the very best songs Morphine ever created, one which
could readily serve as Exhibit A for their sound, “You Dirty Rat” is just a
notch or two below the best that Scruffy the Cat was capable of. Morphine,
better band, “Whisper”, better song. Scruffy had a nice run, but must now
depart.
Winner: Morphine – Whisper
THE JOHNNY CASH REGIONAL
Joel R.L.
Phelps - God Bless the Little Pigs
[mp3]
vs.
The Pixies
- Debaser [RealAudio]
This is a
very difficult call. On the one hand, Joel Phelps, a relatively obscure artist
whose work I’ve thoroughly enjoyed for many years and who, from what I’ve read,
is a genuinely decent human being. On the other hand, postpunk icons the Pixies
and one of their greatest songs. My selection could potentially say a lot about
me as a listener—whether I favor the lesser known artist, in some snobbish show
of exclusivity, or go with the big name, with the latter choice being one that
few rock fans would argue with. As tempted as I am to let outside influences
filter in, however, I really have to focus entirely on the songs themselves.
“God Bless
the Little Pigs” is a cathartic blast of noise, bursting up in the middle of
the otherwise reserved album Warm Springs Night. It’s impossible not to
be thrilled by this song—the furious guitar squall lead-in, the way the guitar
then melds perfectly into the chugging bass line, Phelps’ muted vocals in the
verses that erupt into wails, the sharp guitar solo, the bass melody line near
the end. And yet…this song simply isn’t Phelps at his best. His finest songs
are midtempo, dynamic, emotional pieces that are beautiful in their quiet
intensity. Not that there’s anything wrong with rocking out—when Phelps does it
he does so quite well—but that’s not the reason I listen to his music. I go for
the beauty, not the noise.
A
confession: I don’t even own a Pixies album. I’ve got a dubbed cassette of Doolittle
and an mp3 of “Debaser” from salon.com or somewhere, and that’s it. I’m aware
of their legacy, their influence (some say Nirvana would never have existed
without them, though in Nirvana I hear a lot more Hüsker Dü than Pixies), and
their inevitable comeback (do 1980s alternative rock icons ever really
go away completely?). But I’ve never heard Surfer Rosa or Come On
Pilgrim or Trompe le Monde or Bossanova, nor do I
particularly care to. I have no emotional connection to the band—in fact, Black
Francis’ cartoonish persona pretty much acts as barrier to such devotion—and
they’ve never been an integral part of my life. I’ve admired them from a
considerable distance, and that’s all. But there’s no denying that “Debaser” is
a truly great song, one which is fully emblematic of the band’s sound (or of
the sound of Doolittle, anyway, since I’ve never heard the other
albums).
I’d love to
advance the cause of Joel R.L. Phelps to the masses (or at least the dozens who
are reading this) by advancing “God Bless the Little Pigs” to the Final Four,
but it’s simply not a better song than “Debaser.” So I’m betraying my heart and
going with the Pixies.
Winner: The Pixies - Debaser
THE CARL PERKINS REGIONAL
Camper Van Beethoven - Sweethearts [RealAudio]
vs.
Mudhoney - No One Has [RealAudio]
To my mind
Camper Van Beethoven was, in concept and execution, the epitome of indie rock.
(I speak of them in the past tense, because though like most 80s icons they’ve
recently patched up their differences and reunited, I haven’t heard much about
their new stuff and they’ll forever be of the past for me.) They were: Northern
California goofballs who never took themselves too seriously; highly talented
musicians unafraid to always try something new; funny as hell (I defy you to
listen to “Take the Skinheads Bowling” or “Down and Out” with a straight face);
brazen enough to set most of their world-music instrumental melodies to the
same ska rhythm; unabashedly populist in their political views while
recognizing (in “Joe Stalin’s Cadillac”) that all world leaders, left to right,
from LBJ to Stalin to Pinochet, are only in it for power and wealth; tastefully
eclectic in their choice of cover tunes, from Black Flag to Sonic Youth to Pink
Floyd to Status Quo; and, above all, fun—their exuberance and joy compelled you
to laugh and dance while also making you think. The band members’ post-breakup
efforts (Cracker, Monks of Doom, Victor Krummenacher’s solo career, et al) all
had brief highpoints but never came anywhere near the glories they achieved as
Camper Van Beethoven.
In contrast
to CvB, I don’t have an exceptionally strong personal connection to Mudhoney. I
didn’t first come across them until my thirties, and I was never into the whole
Seattle grunge thing. But I do have connections with them—my wife was a big fan
from way back, enough so to name her (and now “our”) cat after them; I still
laugh at the memory of seeing a publicity photo in CMJ during the My Brother
The Cow era, with Mark Arm jauntily wearing a crown, like an actor out of
an old Imperial Margarine commercial; and I’ve published a short story,
“Freewheeling”, which imagines a hardcore fan’s emotional reaction to the
band’s breakup. (Yes, of course they’re now back together.) Their music is
undeniably great—loud, raucous, funny, don’t-give-a-frig rock & roll that
blows away most of the grunge pretenders who emerged in their wake. I have the
utmost respect for the band, particularly their willpower in churning out such
consistently good music for so many years.
As for the songs
themselves: “No One Has” is a hoot, and must have been thrilling to hear
stretched out to eight or nine minutes in some tiny, sweaty club, the audience
a sea of humanity and dancing as one. Thing is, I have no idea what the song is
about. Which is maybe their point, though this weakness still prevents me from
completely embracing it. But I’ve truly loved “Sweethearts” for over fifteen
years now, my intellect completely getting the point of the lyrics while my
soul is immersed in the lovely country rock melodies, and that alone is enough
to advance this great song past the visceral thrill of “No One Has.” Camper
decamps, and marches on to the Final Four.
Winner: Camper Van Beethoven - Sweethearts