About
a year after Kurt Cobain’s Journals
had been released, I found a copy of the controversial book on the shelves of
my local library, and couldn’t resist flipping through the glossy pages. Inside
one of the many short lists of favorite records Kurt had been creating, he had
penned a reference to Teenage Fanclub’s Bandwagonesque,[1] and the name rang
strangely familiar in my head. I hurried to the library’s CD selection, where
lo-and-behold, I found a broken-cased copy of Bandwagonesque, which I had already noticed and ignored numerous
times when I had browsed the library’s selection.
Convinced
I had stumbled upon some lost treasure, I rented the aged disc and brought it
home to spin in my weathered walkman. Knowing that Kurt Cobain himself held
this record in high regard,[2] I convinced myself it must
be some secret treasure of alternative music, and I eagerly popped my
headphones on. Initially I was underwhelmed, but since those days, Bandwagonesque has been a record to
which I repeatedly return, for its simple, sallow melodies manage to capture my
attention in new ways every time.
Upon
first (or really, even tenth) listen, it is not easy to see how the
minimalistic music that defines Bandwagonesque
found a way to resonate with listeners so powerfully that they would name it
“Album of the Year” in 1991 (over Nevermind!).[3] While the instrumentation
is certainly fun, there is hardly anything to it: guitarists Norman Blake and
Raymond McGinley rely steadfastly on open chord shapes or simple solos
throughout, while Brendan O’Hare chugs like a tugboat through smooth but repetitive
drum beats. Only bassist Gerard Love seems to do any exploring of his
instrument, his moving basslines wandering comfortably beneath the shoegazy
wash of guitar and even threatening to drive some of the songs into melodic
territory. But while the performances hardly rise above “slacker” on the
enthusiasm scale, Teenage Fanclub manages drain every ounce of catchiness from
their simple approach, creating a record that is liable to be stuck in your
head for weeks after you spin it.
Their
four-chord song structures and droopy tempos
may avoid pushing a single sonic boundary, but the members of Teenage
Fanclub are no simpletons. Instead of toying with time signature or key
changes, the entirety of Bandwagonesque
instead serves to completely deconstruct the idea of anticipation. Almost every
song finds a way to fuck with the listener’s expectations: “Satan” is a minute
of noise followed by twenty seconds of composition, and “Star Sign” features
over a minute of ambient, aimless guitar washes before abruptly beginning the
tune proper.
Song
endings are also regularly deconstructed. Both “I Don’t Know” and “December” trick
the listener into a resolution that isn’t ready to quit yet, continuing on
after multiple false endings, while other tunes seem to go on forever. “Pet Rock” offers thirty seconds of lyrics before an extended jam over a single
chord, broken up only by a solitary, impotent horn piercing the background, and
“Metal Baby” follows a similar vein. As McGinley once stated in a Spin interview, the band believes that
“once you start trying to fulfill other people’s expectations of you, it’s
gonna die.”[4]
Teenage Fanclub unabashedly toys with even their listener’s needs on this
record, pushing the limits of sonic tension and release far past the norm.
While
virtually every tune on Bandwagonesque
messes with the listener’s anticipation, perhaps the best example is the iconic
opener, “The Concept.” Opening with Norman Blake’s moaning guitar and vocals,
this song trudges along at a slow pace, soulfully winding a vague tale of a
girl who spends time with the band. Blake leads the band through a fully
structured song, regaling three verses and a quick, furtive guitar solo before
trailing off from a final chorus. Logically, the song should end there, but instead,
O’Hare’s crawling drum fill leads the listener into an extended outro that is
longer than the song proper. The band proceeds to sing a wordless harmony over
the slowest tempo known to man, interspersing guitar leads that would put even
the most celebrated 80’s ballad to shame. “The Concept” epitomizes Teenage
Fanclub’s meddling with the idea of tension on this record, yet presents it
with pop sensibility and sweet melody that both satisfies and delivers.
Much
like the instrumentation, the lyrics that Teenage Fanclub presents on Bandwagonesque are rooted in simplicity;
however, the lack of flair in the words unfortunately serves to do more damage
than good for this record. In an interview with The Bob, drummer Brendan O’Hare admits that the writing process for
the band arose mostly “just from mucking about,”[5] while Norman Blake has
admitted in retrospect that the members of the band “weren’t taking anything
too seriously at that point” in time, writing almost all of the lyrics in the
studio.[6] And while there is
certainly nothing wrong with a band throwing a song together, the sheer lack of
enthusiasm or even coherency in the record’s lyrics leave a lot to be desired.
A
prime example lies in “What You Do to Me,” comprised only of four lines that
are so vague and noncommittal, they describe absolutely nothing: “What you do
to me / I know, I can’t believe / There’s something about you / Got me down on
my knees.”[7] And though some songs like
“Sidewinder” and “Guiding Star” focus their energy enough to create a scene or
feeling, they feature a distinct lack of innovation, recycling worn-out clichés
like “I love your walk….I love your talk”[8] and “you’re my number
one.”[9] While every tune on Bandwagonesque is driven by a gentle
hook and unassuming melody that catches the ear, the lyrics largely serve
neither to add context or steer the song in any way, forcing the listener to
rely on the instrumental tracks like “Is This Music?” for depth and emotional
expression.
If
you can forget about the lyrics (a pretty easy task, considering their complete
lack of substance), Bandwagonesque remains
a remarkable listening experience, but one song does manage to piece together a
lyrical idea that is not only coherent, but actually interesting. The Norman
Blake composition “Alchoholiday”[10] paints a powerful scene
of a relationship that is very quickly losing its meaning. With lines like
“Ever get a feeling when you’re taken by the hand / And led a course you can’t
command,” Blake subtly relates a lack of control, hinting at terror and yet
whizzing by it without leaving time to digest what is actually happening. He
then furthers his scene with an air of dissatisfaction with the lines “Fall
into line but I’m doing nothing / We’ve got nothing worth discussing” before
slipping into the decisively hurtful chorus of “There are things I want to do,
but I don’t know if they will be with you.”[11] Although far from mind-blowing, “Alcoholiday”
manages to hold together a vivid and relatable lyrical theme, an accomplishment
that no other song on the record manages to approach.
Though
very little of this record holds up under severe scrutiny, I must say that I am
still enamored of its simplistic charm. For all that Bandwagonesque lacks in grace and intricacy, it more than makes up for it with infectious pop
hooks and a lackadaisical charisma. Bandwagonesque
comes unadorned, exactly as it is, and thus I can see how Kurt Cobain was enamored
of it, even after it beat out his own band. It’s a fun, confusing-yet-pleasant
listen from front to back, and I still get a tickle in my soul whenever it
wanders its way back into my life.
Tunes to Check Out:
1) Alcoholiday
2) I Don't Know
3) Star Sign
Tunes to Check Out:
1) Alcoholiday
2) I Don't Know
3) Star Sign
[1]
Cobain, Kurt. Journals. New York:
Riverhead, 2003. 233. Print.
[2] https://books.google.com/books?id=kYQbFzb7oQMC&pg=PA27&lpg=PA27&dq=kurt+cobain+journals+teenage+fanclub+reference&source=bl&ots=88DTjOplAz&sig=NRcyIJ7D6KYG-cHgARYNKgFjDSQ&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0CB4Q6AEwAGoVChMI0t2ZwMvyyAIVg3A-Ch2wpgDu#v=onepage&q=kurt%20cobain%20journals%20teenage%20fanclub%20reference&f=false
