The Jesus and Mary Chain - Munki

By

Jesse Mullen

“Everybody loves me goes away” sings William Reid, on the album’s second track, “Birthday.”

“And I’d kill myself, if that would make them stay.” With Munki, The Mary Chain made their most ambitious artistic statement, on their final record. (Released in the summer of 1998, they would break up, that September.) The stylistic ground they cover is astounding. From the three-chord trad rock of “I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll,” to the spaced out indie pop electronics of “Birthday,” to the Trip-hop of “Perfume” (which features Hope Sandoval on lead vocals), to the nu-industrial-chug of “Virtually Unreal,” the sad, weary folk of “Never Understood,” the tripped-out, anti-fast-food rant “Commercial,” and the suicidal tendencies of “Black,” it’s safe to say that Munki is an absolute mess. But what a glorious mess it is, and as any open minded listener will find, it is definitely worth your time. The record begins in a highly energized fashion, with the high speed train rocker “I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll.” Kicking off with a muscular drum beat, Jim Reid is already delivering one of his world famous throat-y vocal performances less than two seconds later. That Jim was approaching 37 years of age, and William approaching 40, you’d never know. Although the record displays the maturity of two 15+ year veterans going at it, it is performed with youthful exuberance, and sounds like something made by much younger, hungrier musicians. Next we move onto the depressing synthpop ballad, “Birthday.” It is one of the only instances where the brothers share vocals on a track in the band’s history, with William singing the first half of the verse, Jim singing the second half, and William singing the chorus, while being backed up by Jim. A truly beautiful song. While not reaching the majestic heights of “Birthday,” following track “Stardust Remedy” is a fast paced rocker, paying tribute to speed. How fitting. In the lyrics, Jim Reid also declares his love for The Velvet Underground, and in particular, their track “Sister Ray.” It should come as no surprise then, when the track following the next track (William Reid’s “Fizzy”) is entitled “Mo Tucker.” What should come as a surprise, however is that Jim handed it over to his sister Linda. Even more surprising yet, is how well she does with it, managing to sound an awful lot like her older brother. The lyrics deal less with the velvets drummer, than with gender inequality in the rock world, showing off Jim’s feminist side, questioning why women aren’t given a fair chance to shine. The album takes a much more experimental turn on the blissed-out “Perfume,” complete with a droning guitar, a moaning vocal from Hope Sandoval, a slow breakbeat, and a nasally, tripping vocal from William. The next track takes us back to Jim, with the technology-skeptic “Virtually Unreal.” Key lyric: “Looking at the TV/Maybe I should blow it away. Looking at the TV/Maybe I should throw it away.” It goes on to mention/name drop B.B. King (RIP), and Jesus Christ, in that order. As it should.

Next, we move onto “Degenerate,” a dirty rocker that The Mary Chain had long perfected. A cop revenge fantasy written by William, but sung by Jim, it is the story of a man who kills a police officer, and is, in his own words “A car crash,” “Diseased,” and a Cokehead.

LP number two begins with the stunningly dark and dirty “Cracking Up.” Written and Sung by William, it is Jim’s favorite Mary Chain single of all time. The lyrics are pure self-deprecation, Mary Chain style. “Some said I was a freak” sings William, in his strained, wrecked voice.

“I AM a freak.” This is driven home with a low, staccato blues riff, played by William, and harmonized with perfectly by rhythm guitarist, and JAMC longstay Ben Lurie. (It should be noted that the music video for this track borders on pornography, rather fittingly.)

Next, is the epic garage/psych-rock opus “Commercial.” built on droning single notes, grandiose drum fills, and at nearly 7 minutes, it borders on excessive. It is certainly the most self-indulgent track The Mary Chain ever recorded. “McDonald’s is shit, McDonald’s is shit. Burger King is hell/McDonald’s is shit” sings William, somewhat successfully, over the din. “I don’t wanna.” (He would later re-record this track after The Mary Chain broke up, in his solo project, Lazycame.)

Next is Jim’s “Supertramp,” which borrows the drumbeat from The Beatles’ “Tomorrow Never Knows,” the last track on their magnum opus Revolver.

The majestic “Never Understood” is the most contemplative song on the record. “I think I’m going back to school/’cause I’m tired of being a fool.” William goes on to talk about the downfall of America, Religion, and The Rolling Stones. He also cuts down Cool Britannia, in a time when nobody had the guts to criticize Tony Blair. Kudos to him. In addition, it seems to predict the end of the band. “I think I’m going out of style/I think I’ve known it for a while/I think I’ve known it with a smile/I think I’m going home.” I can barely get through this one without crying.

William sings the next song as well, “I Can’t Find The Time For Times.” “I think I’m going insane” he sings over a warm chord progression.

Jim takes the next one, a track entitled “Man On The Moon,” which wouldn’t be out of place as one of Lennon’s compositions on Let It Be. It fails to impress however, as the overly simplistic lyrics, and staid arrangement cause it to fall flat. Not even Jim’s stellar brass arrangement can save this one.

The next track more than makes up for it, however, as William delivers the stunningly depressing “Black,” which seems to refer to the way he was treated by the other members of the band towards the end. “No one here is on my side/Nothing here is mine.” Mixed by Alan Moulder, it has a sharper, bolder sound than those mixed by the brothers. Jim admitted that he and Ben were wrong in the way they treated him towards the end of the band, in a 2011 interview, citing the “cliques” that formed in the group, due to their preferences of different substances (Jim and Ben did coke, while the eternally mellow William preferred weed.)

One only needs a quick glance at the lyrics to “Black” to see the parallels. The track also contains something of sentimental value to Mary Chain fans; an answering machine recording, from the late Nick Sanderson (drummer in the band, during the mid-90’s) to Ben. Sanderson passed away in 2008, due to illness. RIP Nick. Things take another turn for the worse, however, on the drunken lounge song “Dream Lover,” with it’s dated sound, and lack of grace. Bear in mind though, this is an album of 18 songs, and two weak songs aren’t really going to cause that much harm in the long run. If anything, it will make you appreciate the great songs even more.

One of those great songs is next however, as the album, and The Mary Chain’s recording career, comes to a close with the Shoegazing/Noise Rock classic, “I Hate Rock ‘N’ Roll.”

Written and sung by William, and recorded while his voice was still intact, it’s a pure nails on the chalkboard masterpiece. And thus endith The Mary Chain’s last record.

The Jesus and Mary Chain were dropped by Blanco y Negro in 1997, and found a new home with Sub Pop in the US, and old buddies Creation in the rest of the world, in 1998.

Upon release, the record received mixed reviews from critics, and charted outside the top 40 in the UK. Pitchfork, while giving the record a somewhat positive review (7.1/10), accused the brothers of not trying anything new. I honestly have to wonder if the reviewer even listened to it. The record is easily their most diverse, and is dripping with pre-millennial paranoia. I have to wonder what a Mary Chain album would have sounded like in the early 2000’s. I’m sure I’m not alone. But alas, it was not meant to be, as on September 5th, 1998, tensions within the band, particularly between Jim and William, and William and Ben, came to an ugly head onstage. Jim and Ben had been up all night, getting fucked up the night before, and Jim had continued drinking into the next day. When it was time to go on stage, he could barely stand. He stumbled on, along with William, and he couldn’t sing the songs. Within five minutes of getting onstage, he and William were screaming in each other’s faces. William left, and never returned, forcing the remaining quartet to finish the tour. After that, The Mary Chain announced their break up, William moved to Los Angeles, and played a few acoustic shows in 2000 (performing the gorgeous “Never Understood” at at least one show), and started a new solo project “Lazycame” which continued the trend of the more experimental sound of tracks on Munki, particularly “Perfume” and “Commercial.” Jim formed Freeheat (which he admits was just an excuse to have fun and do some drinking on stage), with Ben Lurie and Nick Sanderson, as well as Romi Mori. But, after those side projects fell apart, and the brothers released the side project album Sister Vanilla, in collaboration with their little sister Linda, offers started to come in for large scale headlining slots at festivals. In 2007, The Jesus and Mary Chain officially reunited for the first time in nine years, to play their hits at Coachella Music and Arts Festival, in Indio, CA. The brothers also promised an album on the horizon, but unfortunately, it never materialized, and only one track from the sessions, the churning “All Things Must Pass” was ever released, on the Heroes soundtrack nonetheless, in 2008. As of this writing there are no official plans for a new Mary Chain record. Which is a shame, because it would be interesting to hear what kinds of songs they would write now. On the other hand, maybe it’s best that they went out on a relative high note, and let the past be the past. They’ve come home. 

  
Sub Pop/1998

“Hand It Over,” and the First "Real" Ending

To Dinosaur Jr.

By

Jesse Mullen

J. Mascis regards Hand It Over as one of his finest creations. So why have so few people outside of his devoted cult heard it? Let’s travel back to the late ‘90s to find out why. Actually, let’s travel back to the early ‘80s, when Geoff Travis of Rough Trade formed Blanco y Negro records, in partnership with The Warners. Travis had set up Blanco, in an effort to recoup lost finances at Rough Trade, during their dreadful year that was 1982. This had a positive effect in the long run, as Blanco helped bring bands like The Jesus and Mary Chain in the ‘80s and, later on in the ‘90s, Dinosaur Jr. However, as the 90s progressed, finances at Warners had shifted to quick singles, and this had a profound effect on the lesser-selling artists on Warners, particularly the smaller (by major label standards) Blanco y Negro. Hand It Over was released in 1997. I think you know where I’m heading with this, but I’ll spell it out anyway. The label put zero effort into promoting it, and pressed way too few copies of it (which is why pressings of the record go for large sums on eBay and Discogs to this day.) As a result of the lack of Sales, Dinosaur Jr. (really just Mascis at this point, after firing Lou Barlow in 1989, and Murph quitting in 1993 due to nervous exhaustion.) were dropped by Blanco, and J. retired the name. Which is a shame, because the music encoded on the disc, (or pressed into wax, if you’re rich, and own it on vinyl like me) is some of the best Mascis has ever written. Opener “I Don’t Think” (not to be confused with Dinosaur’s 1994 track “I Don’t Think So,” from the staid, and genuinely underwhelming Without A Sound) kicks the album off with a heavy riff, and a falsetto vocal, before kicking into it’s melodic, wistful chorus, featuring vocal harmonies from My Bloody Valentine’s Bilinda Butcher. (MBV do-it-all Kevin Shields can also be heard saying “What?” at the end of the track, through the fuzz.) The track also features a bit of a surprise; a Melodica solo, played by either Mascis or Shields. In addition to all of this, it contains one of Mascis's most concise, and economical guitar solos, to the tracks advantage; it's meant to be perfect pop. Not one of his monstrous Marshall-blasting opuses. The next track starts off like Neil Young got a hold of a delay pedal, and decided to shake the cobwebs off, but then moves into more of a summery mood, with a mellotron break, and some mewling vocals by Mascis in his signature way. Whenever I’m traveling through Amherst, MA (Mascis’s hometown) in the summertime, this is my favorite track to play, as I stroll through the common. (Shields also pops up on this track as well, adding additional vocals to the final bridge.)

“Nothings Going On” features some chugging guitar work, and lyrically finds Mascis supporting a female friend in need, and reassuring her of his loyalty to her.

“I’m Insane” features trumpet, and backing vocals from Tiffany Anders.

“Can’t We Move This” has possibly the “biggest” sound of all of the tracks on side A (barring one, which I will get to in a minute), with its layer upon layer of multitracked guitar, pumped through Marshall stacks at top volume, a thunderous drum performance by J, and walls of strings, arranged by Mascis. Phil Spector would shit himself, if he wasn’t rotting in a cell somewhere.

The following track, “Alone” is possibly the heaviest Dinosaur Jr. song of all time, and makes “Don’t” (From Bug) seem quiet in comparison. An ominous three chord riff begins the song, before giving way to Mascis’s psychedelic churning, and his vocals come in. To be honest, the lyrics don’t even have to be deciphered to know that he is going through a rough time. He doesn’t even have to scream. And he doesn’t; he lets his guitar do it for him. I can’t even describe the tones that he gets out of his Jazzmaster, and pedalboard of over 50 different effects. You’ll just have to listen, and find out for yourself.

If you think the music described he sounds more diverse than the average Dinosaur Jr. album, you would be correct. Mascis seems to be more dedicated than ever, to work the arrangements to their most adventurous possibilities.

Side B kicks off with “Sure Not Over You,” a majestic, mournful tale of love lost, groupies, and “A vibe so bad I wanna puke.” Could J. see the end in sight? We’ll never know.

The next two tracks, “Loaded” and “Mick” while worthwhile, are the typical retreading tracks that you get with any Dinosaur Jr. record.

“I Know Yer Insane” is a scorching rocker, performed with gusto, and is the only track recorded with the then-current full live lineup, and the only Dinosaur Jr. studio recording to feature George Berz on drums.

This is followed up with the folk-y “Gettin’ Rough.” While not the final track on the album, I’ve always seen this as Dinosaur’s “The End.” Performed by J. on a banjo, and kick drums, he sees the writing on the wall; “The charm is gone” he sings “Time to move on.”

“I’m ready now, the question is how?” I get tears in my eyes during this one. It reminds me of times in my life, when I’ve gone through great change, like graduating High School, or saying goodbye to something/someone I love. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for J.

The actual final track, “Gotta Know” is a fitting ending to the Dinosaur era. A minor key ballad, with a wistful vocal from Mascis, we find our hero laying his love to rest, while looking to the future.

After disbanding Dinosaur in October of 1997, Mascis would embark on a solo tour in 1998, form The Fog 3 years later (releasing the equally underrated “More Light” a shoegazing/noise rock hybrid album that has aged brilliantly), disband the fog 2 years after that, and release a tribute record to “The Hugging Saint” in 2005.

Then something funny happened. The original members of Dinosaur decided that they work best when together, and reformed in the spring of 2005.

As of this writing, the reunited Dinosaur Jr. have released 3 albums, 2007’s Beyond, 2009’s Farm, and 2012’s I Bet On Sky. While the music on each of these releases easily eclipses that on Hand It Over, I still have more of an emotional attachment to this record. Mascis is playing with his heart on the fretboard, and experimenting more than he ever had, (and for the most part, ever would.) And that, my friends, is enough to make this critic satisfied.

Blanco y Negro/1997