Sunday, November 8, 2015

Teenage Fanclub - Bandwagonesque




            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 


[1] Cobain, Kurt. Journals. New York: Riverhead, 2003. 233. Print.

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