Disclaimer: The following piece is a super-in-depth look at one of my favorite records, and as such, it is riddled with personal opinions and praise for said record. This cannot be helped.
The indomitable “mix tape” has always been a mainstay in
introducing music to another person, by collecting a saga of songs that truly
mean something to the creator. While the “tape” has since become defunct, the
ideas embodied by its magnetic ribbon live on over multiple format
changes. In the late 90’s, one of my best friends received a mix CD from a relative,
which introduced us to many punk and alternative acts, including our mutual
obsession, Goldfinger. Another act that we soon found ourselves drooling over
was Harvey Danger, whose then-popular single, “Flagpole Sitta” was burned into
our minds and hearts as we spun that disc. After learning the lyrics by heart,
I happened upon the parent album, Where Have All the Merrymakers Gone?,
in a local library, a discovery that has literally changed my life since.
As “Flagpole Sitta” made apparent to everyone in ’97-‘98,
Harvey Danger have an extraordinary and unique sound. Their very approach to
their music feels completely original, as they squish alternative and punk
conventions together with pop sensibilities and poetry, presenting
something that is tastefully artistic and simply rocking. Aaron Huffman’s
eclectic, distorted, and treble-heavy bass work has made him a hero of mine,
and I can confidently say that I have yet to find another band that
splits lead responsibilities equally and perfectly between guitar and bass.
Though Huffman takes the spotlight for me, guitarist Jeff Lin and self-taught
drummer Evan Sult are equally inventive and creative players who easily hold
their own against the fuzzy onslaught of bass leaking from this record. Capping
this mighty trio is vocalist Sean Nelson, whose sarcastic but soulful vocals
complete the package that is Harvey Danger. Nelson’s nonpareil lyrics flirt
with the very line between poetry and prose, and are littered with irony and
wordplay, making his stories and metaphors into music you can read as much as
listen to.
The sound that this quartet has assembled is a scrawling
signature that none have yet to be able to forge, and Where Have All
the Merrymakers Gone? is the launchpad from which it took off. The exclusive
tone of their performance is what ties each of the ten tracks on this record
together. Each tune features a voicing that is both intricate and unique,
complete with a feel that makes it obvious these tunes belong nowhere else than
on this record. Furthermore, every tune is laden with the honesty, truth, and
youth of these musicians, assuring anyone listening that these four
absolutely mean every hit, every note, every word. The
intention behind this record is pure, real, and present from start to finish,
so much so that to write an overview of the article would deny this record the
justice it merits and demands, and similarly deny me the chance to gush about
one of my all-time favorite albums.
1. Carlotta
Valdez
Switching between subdued verses and a pumped up chorus,
this song is the perfect introduction to the youthful enthusiasm flowing out of
this record. Sean’s vocal performance on this tune is perhaps one of his best,
giving us a great example of how dynamic his voice can be: he starts the tune
with a gentle melody that gradually devolves into raging shouts in the bridge
and final choruses. His lyrics pay homage to the Hitchcock film Vertigo[1], about a cop who
gradually plummets into madness, and the band’s instrumentation choices,
beginning in beauty and ending in thrashing punk insanity, perfectly mirror the
movement of the film. With an exclaimed “yes!” dropped at the very end of the
track, “Carlotta Valdez” is obviously a tune that gets this band excited, and
with every listen I find it impossible not to share in that sentiment.
2. Flagpole
Sitta
Besides being my personal introduction to this band as
well as Harvey Danger’s most (or only) recognizable tune, “Flagpole Sitta” is a
sarcastic testimony to teenaged angst, layered over a catchy swing groove.
Released as a single in 1998, it has since been peppered throughout film and TV[2],
as well as covered by notable acts like Chiodos.[3]
Obviously, Nelson’s innuendo- and
anger-laden vocal is the star of the tune, an anthem for the counterculture of
the late nineties. Nelson’s lyrics are hyperbolic and introspective, and the
line “If you’re bored then you’re boring” has since become an American idiom.
While the instrumentation is relatively simple, it is also solid, creating a
perfect backdrop for the spiraling vocal. Aaron’s melodic bassline in the intro remains to this day as one of my favorites, and the thumping outro riff behind Nelson’s
“1, 2, 3, 4!” holds this song’s impeccable energy to the last millisecond.
Though Harvey Danger has never found its way into the public’s eye, this tune
solidifies their vibrant sound as a staple of the 90’s, reverberating into the
new millennium as in inspiration to countless artists.
3. Woolly
Muffler
This tune is another great example of the dynamic
abilities of this band, both in composition and presentation. It’s almost
surprising that a band so sure of their sound could produce a tune that
embodies the feelings of reluctance and indecision. Nelson’s vocals seem
teetering on that indecisive edge, and his lyrics, though often accusatory, seem
to be sung themselves through a muffler, never straying past a vague sense of
non-commitment, as the speaker recognizes a stage-five-clinger but does nothing
to prevent the inevitable “hands…growing together.” Furthermore, his comparison
of his romantic involvement to that of a piece of seasonal clothing is
particularly brilliant and hysterical.
In contrast to the hesitant vocals, the instrumentation feels like a building
tantrum. The song begins with a quiet and unique chord progression from Lin,
but soon the entire tune explodes outward in a fit of anger, releasing all the
pent up rage that Nelson’s words won’t express. The tune is full of syncopated
hits that you can truly feel through your stereo. Also notable is Aaron’s bass
riffing on this tune: he’s got a very interesting harmony part for Lin’s intro
chords, and he rips through a small bass solo in the middle of the tune.
Although not as catchy as its brothers, “Woolly Muffler” easily keeps
up the pace of the album and makes a great point that the best way to an
indifferent sound is in making deliberate choices.
4. Private Helicopter
Few musical performances seem more sincere and playful
than those recorded on “Private Helicopter.” Though musically simpler than the
rest of Where Have All the Merrymakers
Gone?, the musicianship laid down in this tune speaks only of absolute fun.
Evan Sult’s improvisational drumming controls the energy of the song, and his
constant alternation between hi-hat and ride, mixed with jazz-driven snare
comps, keep that energy driving to the very end.
Ingrained in “Private Helicopter” is also one of my
favorite lyrical moments. Towards the end of the song, Nelson begins playing
with the sound of his language, taking his poetry and making it absolutely
playful. His lyric utilizes repetition of sounds, as he riffs on the sound of
the word “hold,” to great effect: “I reserve the right to hold my judgments /
friends like you, you know the rest / but all told I hold onto my anger for too
long / until it’s a joke, the night is cold / the joke is old and poorly told /
I told you once…”[4] The enthusiastic and
elated nature of this performance is one of the many things making this song simply
brilliant and immensely fun.
5. Problems and Bigger Ones
Featuring perhaps the most solemn intro ever written,
“Problems and Bigger Ones” takes the energy down in favor of a more emotional
approach. The band plays with a “tension-release” format, led by Lin’s guitar
as he alternates between gentle arpeggiating and screaming distortion. The
entire performance is laden with emotive expression in all sections, reflecting
the somber tone set by the vocals and lyrics. And while I’ve been listening to
this tune for years, a recent spin revealed to me an interesting nuance hidden
within the mix: right before the band explodes into the first chorus, Evan Sult
puts his kick-drum rhythm in 3/4, while his hands remain in 4/4. Always a
sucker for interesting time-signatures, this only adds to my mountain of
appreciation for this band and its music.
6. Jack the Lion
Full of distorted bass and guitar, “Jack the Lion” has
the feel of a rock ‘n’ roll tank treading down the interstate. For the
volume it carries, this tune adopts a relatively slowed tempo, and is driven
largely by Huffman’s straightforward thumping bass line. Lin all but sits out
during the verses, almost letting the listener forget he is there until his
thrashing chords burst into the chorus. Against the driving guitars is Nelson’s
introspective vocal part, which avoids energy in favor of a subdued and
thoughtful flavor. However, he does not leave the listener wanting, for as the
bridge rolls around he begins to scat-sing, letting his melody evolve over the
relaxed feel the instruments are laying down. Coupling that with uncomfortable
claps in the intro and a mid-song break that invites swaying back and forth,
“Jack the Lion” becomes the awkward anti-anthem of the record, packing power
without shoving it anyone’s face.
7. Old Hat
Definitely my favorite from this record, no song
showcases Aaron Huffman’s intricate and unique bass style better than “Old
Hat.” Huffman completely dominates this tune, alternating between overdrive and
clean and exploring his bass’ entire neck. He effortlessly moves from simple
strumming to treble-heavy chords, pushing the tune along without overshadowing
any other instrument. His signature approach to his instrument is one of the
main reasons I’ve fallen so helplessly in love with this song, record, and
band, and his indelible performance on “Old Hat” has been one of my main
inspirations in my approach to the bass. Indeed, since the first time I heard
it, this song has become so ingrained in my being that it became my very first
live-performance on stage at the age of fourteen, and I've remained in awe of
it since.
Although the bass in this song remains forefront in my
mind, it is hardly the only thing that makes “Old Hat” so damn great. Nelson’s
lyrics are so calmly obsessive, painting a vivid and tangible image of a
person’s very first crush and the pedestal we place our object on. However, the
subject of the song is ambiguously referenced, making a woman fit as seamlessly
as a landscape might. His alternation of human and environmental language
is mirrored by the instruments in the bridge, as Lin and Huffman trade off
solos in a call-and-response manner. If there’s any tune where Harvey Danger
gives everything it’s got, a pretty strong argument can be made for “Old Hat.”
8. Terminal Annex
While Harvey Danger generally gravitates towards an
alternative rock sound, occasionally they dip their fingers into the muddy
waters of cutthroat punk, often with interesting results. The band
begins this song with a misleading gentle hum, yet as the song picks up, so
does the energy level. By the bridge, Huffman rips through a scratchy solo while
Lin and Sult smash away at their instruments. Nelson starts each vocal part
gently, but by the end his voice is tearing with emotion and raw enthusiasm.
The instrumentation of “Terminal Annex” captures the
youth energy of a young band, but in sharp contrast, Nelson’s lyrics for this
seem like they stemmed from the pen of a seasoned poet. His vicious attack on
his subject of the song determines his every move here, and his writing works
to reflect an unbelievable amount of animosity. He chooses words rather
carefully, using lots of harsh or guttural sounds to contrast the sweet
aesthetic of the music. His chorus drives a particular and deep image straight
into the listener’s brain, that of “a zero drowning in a sea of higher
numbers.” Nelson’s anger even culminates in a rare vulgarity as he asserts “you
complain about an overflowing cup / Don’t forget that I’m the one who filled
that fucker up.”[5] The choice to stray a bit
from metaphors in favor of a direct attack only adds to this tune’s punk flavor
and excitement, making “Terminal Annex” one tune to which you can’t sit still.
9. Wrecking Ball
Perhaps the slowest tune on the record, “Wrecking Ball”
brings something wholly unique to Where Have All the Merrymakers Gone? in
the form of a ballad. Although being mostly driven by Aaron’s bass chords, what
really fills this tune is negative space, something that Harvey Danger
cultivates and puts to great use. Evan Sult taps his drums seemingly without
any effort, creating perhaps the quietest drumbeat in history. Lin’s guitar
work is quite sparse, making room for a well-deployed violin to fill the treble
void. Nelson whispers the majority of his lyrics, which revolve around the
central themes of disconnection and destruction. While Harvey Danger leaves the
rock at the door on this one, they take the space vacated by volume and energy
and utilize it extremely well, allowing “Wrecking Ball” to stand as a testament
to their compositional expertise.
10. Radio Silence
Few tunes are ever written around a musical dynamic, but
one listen to “Radio Silence” makes it apparent that this tune is all about
crescendo. Beginning with gentle guitar strumming, the tune spends its entire five-minute
length building in volume, and although the song eschews high-speed thrashing,
its eventual explosion into the climactic outro is as heavy as it is beautiful.
Nelson overlays this song with more delicate poetry, and in sharp contrast to
the previous track, the band leaves no musical space unexplored, as Huffman
spreads another small bass solo while Lin drives atmospheric keyboards through
the tune. Filled with unbridled power and abandoning all restraint, “Radio
Silence” is the perfect closer to this record, making it impossible for the
listener to avoid spinning Where Have All the Merrymakers Gone?
again as the final notes ring into silence.
Although
there are certainly moments of mirth, truthfully, the music that Harvey Danger presents
on Where Have All the Merrymakers Gone? is
relatively simple as far as the whole package—a rockin’ sound and some clever
writing, delivered tastefully and without flourish. Virtually every song is in
4/4 time, and only two truly stray away from a major key. However, no one could
argue that this record is anything less than 100% pure Harvey Danger, because
their particular flavor, their mistakes and triumphs, and their utter love for
their craft is undoubtedly at the center of every song. In an interview with GlobeCat,
Sean Nelson proudly claims that when he looks back on the music Harvey Danger
has made, “I’m proud to know that we always meant it,”[6]
and in listening to any tune off of this album, it is clear that this band is
fully behind the music it’s making. They “mean” it, and it shows, and any doubt
that they’ve since strayed from that truth would be seriously misplaced.
Where Have All the Merrymakers Gone? is
an incredible record of four guys putting absolutely every ounce of their being
into ten songs, making this collection more powerful, more interesting, and
more damn fun than thousands of its competitors. It is a record that to this
day I cannot stop playing (so much so that I recently bought a second copy
because I wore through my first one), and it continuously inspires me as a
bassist, a songwriter, and a person. It lets me know that my own endeavors, no
matter how far their ultimate reach, are entirely worth it if I am true to
myself. Furthermore, Harvey Danger remind me that no matter what, the most
important thing is that I enjoy what I am creating, because, as they so frankly
put it on their website, “everything else is secondary.”[7]
