33 rebellions per minute
1997
that dog, RETREAT FROM THE SUN
If JAGGED LITTLE PILL was such a huge influence on the female performers of the next few years, it may be, in part, because the previous EXILE IN GUYVILLE / LAST SPLASH opening for female performers didn't leave room for singers and songs to be entirely comfortable. Surely if anyone could've make a completely, adorably winsome album from Liz Phair and Breeders blueprints, that dog (now folded after four albums, RETREAT being their last and my favorite) could've. Anna Waronker, singing in a forceful voice that nonetheless strongly resembles Phair in its flatness and its (unusual) pitch range, writes chiming pop songs about instant infatuations, boyfriends, punk rock shows, even marriage; and Petra Haden adds violin to the guitar/ bass/ drums mix; and Petra and sister Rachel spin through dizzy wordless harmonies; and Tony Maxwell drums far more loudly and energetically and well, even on ballads, than the songs might normally call for. "Never Say Never", based on clean guitar riffs and the pleasantly wimpy siren-synth hook style of the Rentals' "Friends Of P", is tightly constructed, buoyant, and full of devoted lyrics about "I was deaf and dumb/ and still knew you are the only one" and "if you had no money, I'd give you my last dime". "Long Island" is a sugar-rush of geeky promises to "sit for hours watching reruns on cable/ I'll take you driving in my brother's beat-up car" that bases its devotion on such clues to life as "so you say you like my shirt/ and you say you've got a lot just like them". It would be horribly stingy to let the literal-minded "a crush by definition must hurt, and they do" get in the way of the fun -- so I don't.
Apparently, though, there are limits to how much pure exhiliration can be packed into a formula that involves evasive chord progressions, dry vocals, strange guitar sounds, and honesty. "I'm Gonna See You" proposes a lifelong bout of "lots of love" but also gamely maintains its somewhat detuned smile through the too-true promise of "I'm gonna see you in the morning/ I'm gonna see you when you're uptight/ I'm gonna see you when you're boring/…/ we'll have family gatherings eternally". "Gagged And Tied" evaluates her partner's potential as an S+M partner over music that could be the Wrens: rushed, pounding, melodically weird, overloaded with dueling lines of feedback and a sawing violin. "Annie" could also be the Wrens until it slows down, uses the violin prettily, and breaks into spiraling vocal harmonies, all in the service of a story that has something to do with death and something to do with a guy's offer to "let me take you out so you can have some fun/ but we'll use your car because I don't have one". "Retreat From The Sun", an embrace of loneliness, sacrifices its distracted Cars-like pop cool when the "la la la la la la, la"s tumble in, but "Minneapolis" and "Hawthorne", which read as giddy new-love songs, try to convey pop atmosphere on hollow acoustic rhythm guitar and melodies too tired to occupy even half of one octave. "Being With You" has a dusky country-rock feel that keeps briefly feinting towards Pixies-like atonality.
RETREAT is still very much a pop-song world, full of grand romantic gestures and small symbolic clothing choices. Perhaps Waronker's still a little too thoughtful to want to portray her world in entirely guileless music, or perhaps these are simply what pop songs look like when you meet your new boyfriend at a Low concert and make smart comments about "Put on 'Venus In Furs'/ and you can go home afterwards'". I'm still completely charmed, in the end, but then I'm used to hearing my music sideways.
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© 1997 bokonin@hotmail.com
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