The Parties – Can’t Come Down

The Parties – Can’t Come Down

By

Jesse E. Mullen

 

Sometimes a band will be out of step with the music of their era. Their sound could be completely new, or it could be a throwback to long lost times. In the case of The Parties, it is definitely the latter.

The San Francisco quartet came up in the mid-2000s but sounded exactly like something that came out of the mid-60s. Led by Jeremy Powers and Sarah Mehlfield, they had a fine interplay. Their guitars jangled and chimed, and the production on their albums was raw and energetic. They also wove their voices in perfect harmony.

In 2008, The Parties released their debut album Can’t Come Down. It must have sounded fresh and nostalgic in an ever-changing musical landscape. But how does it hold up today?

“Damned By The Sunshine” jangles like Teenage Fanclub and Tom Petty with great harmonies between the four members. The sweetness of the melody combined with the agony of the lyrics makes for a nice contrast. It’s a delicious pop rock song in a style rarely heard outside of Britain in the 60s.

“Yours and Mine” has a gentle psychedelic pop feel. The Rickenbackers are out front, and Powers and Mehlfield harmonize nicely. “Waterfall” – unrelated to The Stone Roses song – features four-part harmonies and has slight surf rock vibe. The solo has a nice delay on it, and the guitars are panned left to right, which is a nice touch.

But perhaps “Gotta Get Out” is the greatest highlight. Jangling 12-string and hammertone guitars form a riff resembling something Echo and The Bunnymen would do in their underrated McCulloch-less Reverberation era. The verses have sweet harmonies between Powers and Mehlfield.

Albums can be grandiose in sound, but they don’t always have to be. Sometimes simple production and sweet songcraft is enough. Can’t Come Down is a deliberately minor release. But the light satisfaction of The Parties is where their unassuming beauty lies.

Rainbow Quartz International/2008

 

 

 

 

R.E.M. – New Adventures In Hi-Fi

 

R.E.M. – New Adventures In Hi-Fi

By

Jesse E. Mullen

 

You’ve formed a band and grown it beyond what anyone could’ve imagined. At the peak of your popularity, you cease touring and become a studio project. But desire to tour soon returns and you’re back on the road. What could go wrong? As it turns out, everything.

So was the situation for R.E.M. in 1995. The Athens, GA quartet had gone from cult college rockers to international superstars thanks to singles such as “Losing My Religion” and “Everybody Hurts.” The band had just resumed touring for their 1994 album Monster after a five-year hiatus from the road.

However, it was not an easy time. Health issues plagued the band throughout the tour. Bassist Mike Mills had additional complications from a bout of appendicitis the previous year. Singer Michael Stipe suffered from a hernia. But most serious was what happened to Bill Berry.

The drummer collapsed onstage one night and was swiftly diagnosed with a brain aneurysm. Berry would make a full recovery, but the event put a damper on the proceedings, and informed writing sessions the next album.

New Adventures In Hi-Fi is different from previous R.E.M. records in multiple ways. But perhaps the most noteworthy is the way it was recorded. Rather than using a traditional studio as the band – and virtually all bands – had previously done, they utilized a new mobile recording unit which they brought on tour with them in 1995.

R.E.M. got the idea from Radiohead, who opened for them that year. The Oxford band had recorded “My Iron Lung” live in front of an audience for their album The Bends. But R.E.M. took it a step further, recording the bulk of the album live, either in front of the audience or at soundchecks on their Monster tour.

There was also a familiar face aiding them along. On this album, R.E.M. were joined by sideman Scott McCaughey. The Young Fresh Fellows singer and bassist played a supporting role on the Monster tour as rhythm guitarist and keyboardist. And now he was recording as a member of the highly influential band.

But questions still remained – could R.E.M. continue their hot streak? And would the recordings still sound as good as those made in a traditional studio? When New Adventures In Hi-Fi was finally released in September of 1996, fans were finally able to take stock of the material.

The album opens on a slow, eerie note with “How The West Was Won and Where It Got Us.” Subtle drums from Bill Berry and a melodica introduce the track. Stipe sings in his lowest, gravelliest register. It has the effect of sounding like waking up in the morning after a long night out.

The song is oddly comforting despite the odd placement on the album. The lyrics seem to describe western imperialism and the damage it has done to our planet, as well as its population. Stipe had always been politically active, but his lyrics were always cryptic. He never explicitly referenced events that would date the albums, and that is to everyone’s benefit.

“Wake Up Bomb” recalls the glam rock sound of Monster. Lyrically, the song is firmly tongue-in-cheek. Stipe takes pleasure in praising his sense of fashion. He seems to be poking fun at the attitudes of the time with regards to image.

The guitars and organ in the chorus help elevate what could have been a middling idea to a strong rocker. “Wake Up Bomb” succeeds because of it’s live sound as well as its excellent production.

“New Test Leper” recalls the sounds of MTV’s Unplugged program. The acoustic guitars are out in full force, and – barring a heavily reverberated lead in the chorus – is as close to folk as R.E.M. got. Stipe’s love of irony shows in the lyrics, denouncing Christianity while using biblical references.

“Bittersweet Me” is – somewhat ironically – a track where R.E.M. borrow a bit back from Miracle Legion. The jangle of the guitar in the verses with a bit more bite in the choruses recalls the work of Ray Neal on “Country Boy.”

The lyrics show Stipe trying to break from the mundane in life, saying that he doesn’t know what “[he’s] hungry for.” This is a song where the “live” sound is especially beneficial. As it is a relatively stripped back recording, it sounds organic and fresh – and likely will for a long time to come.

Switching instruments had become a favorite pastime for R.E.M., dating back to 1988’s Green. On “Be Mine,” Mike Mills plays guitar while Peter Buck plays bass. It’s quite sweet musically, lacking drums, and allowing the subtleties of the guitars to breathe.

It feels like a bedroom recording, recalling the dreamy atmospheric quality of “Let Me In” from Monster in 1994. A fairly stripped back track, the lyrics describe love in unconventional terms. Stipe sings that he wants to be his partner’s “Easter bunny” and his “Christmas tree.”

But perhaps the most unconventional song is “Leave.” A seven-minute track complete with hip-hop beats, turntable scratches, and Buck’s distinctive e-bow it is swirling and hypnotic. Lyrically, Stipe is cryptic as ever, describing breakdowns in communication in a way which only he can.

The listener is never sure if he’s talking to a lover or making a statement on the stresses of modern life. Either way, the track proves that R.E.M. can be experimental, hypnotic, and catchy at the same time.

New Adventures In Hi-Fi broke ground by stretching the definition of “studio album” to its limit. No longer would bands be limited to recording in tight rooms in front of a mixing board. However, this would just be a footnote if the music wasn’t as excellent as it is.

The world at large may not have understood what R.E.M. was trying to accomplish here, but it has stood the test of time. As a final hurrah to the classic lineup, New Adventures In Hi-Fi is most satisfactory.

Warner Bros./1996

 

 

 

Miracle Legion – Me and Mr. Ray

Miracle Legion – Me and Mr. Ray

By

Jesse E. Mullen

 

New Haven, CT is a funny town. You can find yourself walking down any block and be in a perfectly safe neighborhood. But venture too far in any direction at the wrong time of day and you could find yourself in a dangerous situation.

Yale University – one of the wealthiest universities in the country – is juxtaposed with crippling poverty that would make the student population blush. It ain’t for the faint of heart. It is this contrast which greatly informs the local arts scene. In the middle of this – during the ‘80s and ‘90s – was Miracle Legion.

Formed in 1983 as a partnership between singer/songwriter Mark Mulcahy and guitarist Raymond “Mr. Ray” Neal, Miracle Legion were pegged to be college rock legends. Their jangly sound and obscured vocals led to them being called “the next R.E.M.”

While that didn’t pan out, they still created a major cult following on the local circuit. Their debut EP The Backyard attracted critical acclaim in the US and the UK – even if the sales didn’t reflect it. However, the press did get the attention of legendary UK label Rough Trade Records.

As home to The Smiths, The Fall, and The Raincoats, Rough Trade could surely break Miracle Legion to the next level. They released Miracle Legion’s next record, 1987’s Surprise Surprise Surprise to more acclaim, but little fanfare.

Between the next EP and their 1989 full-length, the rhythm section quit. Consequently, the album would be recorded as a duo of Mulcahy and Mr. Ray – and aptly titled Me and Mr. Ray. The jangly electric guitars were traded in for hushed acoustics and harmonica.

Mulcahy and Mr. Ray seemed to take what could have been a disastrous situation and turned it into an excuse to revamp their sound. They were risking throwing away what people knew and loved about them for new territory. But as they didn’t set the world on fire commercially previously, they weren’t risking too much.

“Ladies From Town” starts the album off on a jaunty note, with uptempo drums acoustic strums, and folksy harmonica. Lyrically the track seems to take place in a pub or night club setting with Mulcahy asking for the company of a woman he meets.

On the Miracle Legion reunion tour, Mulcahy would pass the microphone out to women in the audience to sing the chorus. It was always an interesting moment, as no one knew how it would turn out.

“If She Could Cry” is another example of Mulcahy and Mr. Ray branching out. It fuses a country and western twang with the kind of modernized rockabilly American Music Club were doing at the time. Lyrically, Mulcahy is admonishing a man for mistreating a woman in a relationship.

The contrast of the dark lyrics with the jovial music is an effective touch. It gives the track a duality rarely present in popular music. Perhaps this complexity of emotions is what kept Miracle Legion out of the charts. It is entirely possible they were too clever for their own good.

Perhaps the most poignant track on the album is “You’re The One Lee.” A simple acoustic guitar and a heavily delayed electric introduce the song in dreamy fashion. Mulcahy enters expressing his love.

Mulcahy bares his soul. He waits all night for his lover to return, sitting with her parents on their porch watching cars go by. He compares their relationship to Apollo and Venus. But not all is perfect in the relationship. She has doubts about the narrator’s commitment.

Musically, the track is both sweet and melancholy. Mr. Ray knew to keep Mulcahy’s words naked, and his backing is simple but effective. He uses his guitar playing to create ambiance and a mood rather than taking center stage. As much as soloing is the mark of a good guitarist, restraint in the proper context is the mark of a great one.

Success can’t always be measured in sales or charting positions. Sometimes success is being cult heroes and inspiring other artists. For Miracle Legion, this is their version of success. While they never made it as big as R.E.M. – or even like-minded artists such as The dB’s – they carved out their own niche in a changing landscape.

Mulcahy and Mr. Ray made a brave decision to change sounds on their second full length. Rather than treading water with a new rhythm section, they made an album deliberately out of step with the sounds of the times. It is for this reason that Me and Mr. Ray stands the test of time.

Rough Trade/1989