Crowded House!! Woodface!! What are we talking about??!!
Jumpin' Jehosephat, is this a god damn record right here. Woah, Nellie. See, I thought these guys were sorta wet when they came out in '86. These dudes dressed in pastels in their videos and they nancied about just a touch too much in their videos. I mean, I remember Split Enz and liked 'em in a sort of second-string sort of way. But remember how Crowded House was instantly embraced by the Meat Crowd when they came out? Y'know what I mean? What I'm tryin' to say is it seemed like that record and that damn "Don't Dream It's Over" was like the Spring Break anthem of '86. And every time I saw footage of them performing it was for a crowd of Frat Meats that were toolin' up for a night of roofie-spikin' and drunk-chick bangin'.
Maybe it was just me.
Aaaaanyway, fast forward to '91 Wherein The Crowdeds justified their existence with the superlative "Woodface". All you have to do is forget the first single, "Chocolate Cake", which was boring, stupid and about 3 minutes too long. It's a cheap shot at the U.S. of A., which is fine, but it's not all that funny. It's facile, in fact. And doesn't rock enough.
Actually, never mind what it's about. Fuck the U.S.A., you know? It's just another place, man. It's just a fucking place. It isn't your girlfriend, you know? If it WAS your girlfriend, dog, man SHE FAT.
Why you gotta get so fuckin' weird about a few dozen zip codes? Jesus Christ. Seig fucking Heil for th' Fatherland, right? Right? Jesus.
Anyway- "Woodface". Wow.
See, I didn't discover this record until about '95 when things was getting mighty slim in the Decent New Music Sweepstakes. I mean, it wasn't like NOW, right? Christ. I thought it was bad THEN. What I wouldn't give for a record that wasn't an excuse for PRODUCT PLACEMENTS, hey. To which it seems the only alternative is "indie" music, which is really just music that ASPIRES to be Product Placement music. What the fuck is it like for teenagers now? God in fucking heaven. Yuck.
Anyway- "Woodface". Damn.
Beautiful god damn record. Tim Finn had joined his brother's band for this outing, and the level and amount of talent on display here is in itself frightening. Hey, those were the days when that played a part in the formula, you know? Pop music wasn't yet just a big, ugly version of Garageband, you know? Almost, almost.
And I'm not talking about that stupid, blazing guitar solo talent. That talent where you're making a record and you need a guitar solo so you open the yellow pages and get some Berkeley idiot for five bucks an hour. If they can break away from their catering gig for the session. It's not that talent, it's the other kind. It's the kind of talent that ekes alien panoramas out of melodic choices, the kind of talent that squeezes limitless vistas of alternating beauty and desolation out of humble chord sequences.
And it's not particularly groundbreaking stuff, either, you know? I don't think Th' House could ever be considered trailblazers. I reckon they didn't spend a whole lot of time sweating that. They just got on with making great and distinctive music that rings profoundly true. There's a lesson there for a fella like me who could have a million songs yet to come if he could just stop freaking out that he isn't forward-thinking enough to come up with a new way to spell a G minor seventh.
That's impossible BTW, for you non-musicians.
"Woodface". God damn pretty bunch of songs. Pretty guitar work, great writing. Redolent with pathos, bathos and D'Artagnan.
posted by Bobby Lightfoot at 15:51
6 Comments:
Amen! My favorite song on this one is "Fall At Your Feet" even with the annoying helium kids chorus stuff in the bridge.
Did D'Artagnan play on that album? Damn, I forgot about that.
Yeah, this was a great band. Their best-of, Recurring Dream, is a great buy, Neil Finn's got a great voice, and the harmonies of the brothers on Woodface is great, great, great.
But they've got some great stuff on other albums, too. "Into Temptation" is one of the best songs about infidelity that I've ever heard, falling firmly into the "Damn, I wish I wrote that" category.
Fast forward, say, 30 or 40 years from now, and you may find that right there in the Obit section of my local paper, the announcement of my passing could appear, and might even go a little something like this:
"Impala Girl shuffled off her mortal coil today, leaving behind a loving husband, two loving sons, some odd sized grandchildren(3 or 4), two wonderful brothers, hopefully more than just a few dear friends, a couple of bewildered house cats, and one really fine playing SG Special -- Now her soul is free to move on and eke alien panoramas out of melodic choices in the great, great beyond . . ."
Not bad.
Oh, and Crowded House fucking soars. Thanks for reminding me, Bobby L.
Best final sentence of a post, evah!
I award you the "very real and not made up at all, honest" Brentmeister General Award for Outstanding Excellence In The Field Of Blog Post Endings.
One of the few and far between albums that grabbed me by the balls and said "This is Good." If I had balls, that is.
a new way to spell a G minor seventh:
be flat, buried six [feet under]
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