Dean and Britta – Back Numbers

 

Dean and Britta – Back Numbers

By

Jesse E. Mullen

 

You’ve co-led an acclaimed group for a few years now. You’ve begun a romantic relationship. And you’ve used that relationship as inspiration for your sultry, smoky songs. Where do you go from here?

If you’re Dean Wareham and Britta Phillips, you start another group. As a musical partnership, the duo were most famous for their work in NYC-based indiepop band Luna. When Phillips joined the group, it was immediately clear that she and Wareham had a chemistry that was spellbinding.

Songs such as “Mermaid Eyes” and “Rememories” featured Phillips’ gorgeous voice prominently. But Wareham still sang all lead vocals. So, in order to create a more collaborative project, the duo started the offshoot Dean and Britta.

Their 2003 debut album L'Avventura showed a penchant for dreamy songwriting and exquisite covers, but it was a little too lightweight overall. Enter Sonic Boom. The Spacemen 3 co-leader was brought in to remix a few tracks off of L'Avventura for a special EP.

That release, 2003’s Sonic Souvenirs showed what the duo could do with a tougher, spacier backing. Boom added reverb effects to the vocals, the guitars, and his own signature style of digital-delayed analog synthesizers and keyboards.

So, when they brought Sonic Boom into the fold for an entire album, expectations must have been high. 2007’s Back Numbers was to feature Boom’s penchant for playing and arranging. But could it live up to the hype?

Opener “Singer Sing” is pure bliss, with Phillips’ voice and a rhythm machine introducing the track in modest fashion. Once Wareham’s warm voice joins in the chorus however, we’re in dream pop heaven. Phillips’ underrated bass playing also features prominently, adding a warm melodic tone that’s not always found on the instrument.

"Words You Used To Say" harks back to Luna's last days of Romantica and Rendezvous. Phillips’ warm bassline, Boom’s jittery analog synthesizers, and Wareham’s signature guitar playing introduce the track in laidback fashion.

Phillips and Wareham trade call-and-response lines over the hip, urbane soundscape. In the chorus, Wareham urges his lover to “bring it home” to him. What “it” is, one can only guess. It can be assumed, however that it is of a sexual nature.

Elsewhere, the duo’s cover of Lee Hazelwood’s “You Turned My Head Around” is equally enchanting. With Phillips on lead vocals, the track makes full use of her range and power. She is tender and cooing in the verses, but when the chorus hits, she isn’t afraid to belt it out.

Phillips was the singing voice of the cartoon character Jem from Jem and The Holograms, which had forced her to use her voice in all sorts of theatrical ways. However, the bulk of her recorded material is much more restrained. It is fun for the listener to hear Phillips expand her range, and channel some of that old energy for one of her records, albeit briefly.

For his part, Wareham turns in a haunted performance on a cover of Donovan’s “Teen Angel.” Still evoking the late-night sultry feel of Romantica, Wareham is mostly alone on the track, save for some acoustic guitar and vibraphone accompaniment.

On “White Horses,” Phillips delivers another spellbinding performance. The arrangement, combined with Phillips’ singing and the production style make the track reminiscent of one of Phil Spector’s 1960s productions.

Ironically, “The Sun Is Still Sunny” is more evocative of the music by Spiritualized than the work of Sonic Boom. (Spiritualized is led by Boom’s ex bandmate Spacemen 3 Jason Pierce.) In fact, Spiritualized would later use a very similar melody set to a waltz on the 2018 track “A Perfect Miracle.”

A swelling string arrangement, and gorgeous harmony between Phillips and Wareham bring the chorus to a higher level. On an album full of highlights, the track still manages to standout as a cut above the rest. Very impressive, considering the quality of the material.

The album closes with the gorgeous “Our Love Will Still Be There.” Originally by the 1960s garage rock group The Troggs, Wareham and Phillips take the track dreamy minimalist territory. With electric piano, washes of gentle synthesizers, and unison vocals, it is an absolute joy to the ears. When Wareham and Phillips sing the title phrase in harmony, we believe them.

While side projects are usually fun as curios, they rarely do anything essential. There are, however, a few exceptions to that rule. With Back Numbers, Dean and Britta successfully capture the hazy warmth of a relationship given new life.

Zoë Records/2007

 

 

 

 

Luna – Romantica

 

Luna – Romantica

By

Jesse E. Mullen

 

You’ve led two successful indie groups. You’ve created “slowcore” and “dreampop” albums before either term was invented. And you’ve successfully avoided all rockstar cliches. Until now.

So was the story of Dean Wareham in 2002. His group Luna had recorded five albums of blissed out Velvet Underground-inspired dreampop. And he had just introduced a new member to the fold.

Bassist Britta Phillips had previous musical experience with the shoegazing group The Belltower. But she also had TV experience as the singing voice of Jem in the animated television series Jem and The Holograms. Her musical ability, singing voice, and star power was captivating to just about everyone. And it is safe to say that she captured Wareham’s attention.

The two quickly realized there was a mutual attraction and began a romantic relationship. There was just one problem – Wareham was married. All went well for several months. But according to Wareham’s memoir, the shit hit the fan during the recording of Luna’s next album.

A maid at the Days Inn in Fredonia, NY spilled the beans when Wareham’s then-wife called the hotel asking for her husband. The maid answered the phone and said “Oh, they just left.” Wareham, apparently not wanting to lie any further fessed up to the affair.

While this spelled an end to his marriage, it also put a damper on the whole era of material for Wareham. He has rarely expressed any interest in playing songs from the album live and rated it close to the bottom when Vice asked him to rank Luna’s albums from worst to best.

Which is a shame, because the music contained on the disk which eventually became Romantica is uniformly excellent. Released on April 23^rd, 2002 – the same day as Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot – Luna had a lot to live up to. And by large, they did.

Opener “Lovedust” balances a cocaine metaphor with romantic intentions. Wareham sings of “A million/A billion/A trillion stars” against a jaunty chord progression and lead guitar part. The song perfectly contrasts Wareham’s classic rock-oriented playing against fellow guitarist Sean Eden’s spacy ambiance.

“Weird and Woozy” shows drummer Lee Wall reprising his part from “Tracy, I Love You” off of 1997’s Pup Tent. Wareham sings about the end of a relationship – and knowing that it is the end – and it’s hard not to read between the lines here. Still, it’s a great – albeit rarely played – track.

“Swedish Fish” and “Mermaid Eyes” recall the dreamy sounds of Lee Hazelwood’s 1960’s work. “Swedish Fish” is played as a waltz, describing a soothing train ride in a narcotic drawl. “Mermaid Eyes,” however is something special in the Luna canon. A duet between Phillips and Wareham, it predicts the work the duo would do as Dean and Britta in future years.

Here, the style is almost doo wop in execution. The band plays in a rhythm reminiscent of the mid-‘50s to early-‘60s. And Wareham and Phillips are enchanting in duet. Elsewhere, Sean Eden has two excellent co-writes with Wareham – “Black Champagne” and “Rememories.”

“Black Champagne” is a dreamy song with swirling strings and excellent “glide guitarwork” by Eden. Dave Fridmann of Mercury Rev contributed heavily to the track, adding strings, and mixing the entire album.

“Rememories,” meanwhile has excellent imagery in the lyrics. Wareham sings of Venetian blinds “slicing up the sun” and keeps a sense of mystery with its incomplete sentence chorus – “it’s been a long, long, long…”

The music is firmly rooted in the alt country genre, with spaced-out slide guitar by Eden, and jangly arpeggios by Wareham. It’s a pity that the duo remain two of the most underrated lead guitarists in the scope of independent music.

Everything wraps up with the epic title track. “Romantica” the song starts out in slow motion. A drumbeat, piano, and organ fade in at a crawl. Wareham sings of the start of a relationship with a slight sadness in his voice. Even when the chorus of “I’m in the mood for you” hits, it’s hard not to hear the melancholy.

It’s almost as if he is mourning his previous relationship, while expressing hope for his current one. As the song reaches it’s climax, Wareham lets loose a glorious finger styled guitar solo reminiscent of Mark Knopfler. It’s an album highlight that in retrospect, feels like a career peak.

I would be remiss not to mention the album artwork. It features a painting of a cigarette lighter with a palm tree printed on the side. It’s the kind of lighter that can be bought at any convenience store or gas station, yet it speaks volumes about where Wareham’s head was (possibly) at.

The palm tree, tropical image suggests peace and great happiness. Yet seeing it crudely rendered on the side of a cigarette lighter suggests a disturbance in Wareham’s peace. Given the recent circumstances surrounding his divorce, it isn’t entirely surprising.

Most modern bands are rarely able to say anything new on their fifth album. Yet with Romantica, Luna showed the world the depth of their talent. Wareham may shy away from this period of his history – and rightly so – but the music he created speaks for itself.

Jetset/2002

 

 

 

Luna - Lunapark

 

Luna - Lunapark

By

Jesse E. Mullen

 

Starting a new band after an acrimonious breakup isn’t easy. But when your previous act are cult heroes Galaxie 500, it’s even harder. Dean Wareham led the Boston-based trio through three classic albums. They appeared on MTV, and toured Europe extensively in the late 80s and early 90s.

However, not all was well within the group. Wareham felt that drummer Damon Krukowski and bassist Naomi Yang – who were and still are a couple – had formed a voting block within the group. He felt that his ideas were being vetoed and that the friendship had run its course.

Wareham did what he felt was necessary. He backed out of a scheduled tour – knowing that they couldn’t go on without him – and got into contact with his friend Terry Tolkin. Tolkin had just been appointed head of A&R at Elektra Records and was looking for new acts to sign.

With Wareham fresh out of a (semi) successful band, Tolkin saw the opportunity to further develop a young talent. He instructed Wareham to record demos of the songs he’d been working on as a means of demonstrating his potential to the higher-ups.

So, Wareham went into Fun City Studios in spring of 1991 and recorded a demo tape under his own name. Produced by Wharton Tiers and accompanied by Mercury Rev’s Jimmy Chambers on drums, it has a warm tube amp sound.

However, it feels slightly underdeveloped as a recording. Wareham plays all of the instruments barring drums, and while his guitar playing is phenomenal as always, his bass playing is nothing to write home about. A solo career was not in the cards just yet. He needed a band and he needed one quick.

Enter Justin Harwood and Stanley Demeski. Harwood was bassist for legendary Flying Nun band The Chills in the early 90s and he brought a melodic quality to his instrument. His style was as integral to early Luna as Peter Hook was to Joy Division or Les Pattinson was to Echo & The Bunnymen.

Demeski was an equally important member. As drummer for post-punk legends The Feelies, he prided himself on perfect timekeeping. In his memoir Black Postcards, Wareham describes Demeski’s constant practicing in the tour van to keep his stamina. Officially naming themselves Luna, they were finally ready to record a debut album.

Lunapark was released in August 1992. Named after the amusement park chain, the album cover depicted a cosmic pencil sharpener which resembled a spaceship. But would the music be as cosmic as the artwork and the name? Or would Luna launch themselves too far into outer space?

Things get off to a cracking start with the neo-psychedelic “Slide.” Wareham sings of a clean break from the past, and the music matches. Harwood’s bass rumbles along melodically and Wareham plays some of his most expressive guitarwork to date. When the solo hits, he truly reaches for the stars.

But Wareham is not the only guitarist to feature on the track. Grasshopper of Mercury Rev stops by to add some tremolo guitar, contrasting nicely with Wareham’s digital delay. Credit must also be given to producer Fred Maher who mixed the track with just enough natural ambiance to sound live in the room. A thrilling start.

On “Anesthesia,” we find Wareham in more familiar territory. Using the same chords as “Tugboat” by Galaxie 500, we find a further reference to the past in the lyrics. Wareham sings that “the party’s over now,” inverting the refrain of “I don’t wanna stay at your party” from “Tugboat.”

The song describes a relationship on life support, but the origin of the title is somewhat literal. Wareham said in an interview with Jenell Kesler years later that his girlfriend at the time dumped him in the recovery room while she was waking up from surgery.

One song explicitly references the breakup of Galaxie 500. On “Slash Your Tires,” Wareham writes about a dream he had where he slashed Krukowski and Yang’s tires. The video is even more damning. It portrays an obnoxious couple driving a soft top Ford Galaxie 500, while alternating between bickering and on the verge of copulation. A bit of a low blow, but it is funny in a Lynchian way.

“Crazy People” and “Hey Sister” both devolve into surreal jamming towards the end, showing the muscle Luna could pack. They also point to the future, paving the way for the excellent chemistry that Dean Wareham would later establish with Sean Eden.

“Crazy People” ends with a guitar motif reminiscent of how The Velvet Underground slowed down “I’m Waiting For The Man” at their Matrix residency in 1969. “Hey Sister” is a start stop song with melodic bass and light guitars until Wareham slams on the tube screamer pedal. The dynamic is incredibly effective and elevates the song above mid-pack.

On “Goodbye,” Wareham seems to have circled back to the themes of “Slide.” He’s ready to leave town now that the fun has stopped. It’s a slow, dreamy number until the guitar solo hits, and Wareham has added his fretboard magic. A would-be average song is again elevated by his excellent musicianship.

Perhaps “I Want Everything” is the track that points to the future of Wareham’s songwriting. A gentle electric guitar and Wareham’s warm voice introduce the song. The lyrics describe the narrator’s wants and desires, while saying that the woman he loves has “got [him] in a bad situation.”

It’s the complexities of love that would define much of Wareham’s later songs, as well as his personal life. He would leave one marriage, only to start another with Harwood’s replacement bassist Britta Phillips - thus forming a voting block of his own. In many ways, “I Want Everything” feels almost prophetic.

In the end, Lunapark might not have had the acclaim or sales Elektra were hoping for, but it helped launch the career of one of America’s most underrated bands. Dean Wareham explored themes of escape and boredom using his quick wit and signature guitar. And on this front, the album was a smashing success.

Elektra/1992