If
I am notorious for anything, it is most likely procrastinating for untold
amounts of time before following through on people’s recommendations. Just like
with Modest Mouse, for years, the name Every Time I Die was tossed relentlessly
in my direction. Countless conversations ended with promises of “I’ll look them
up when I get home,” shortly followed by apparent memory loss on my part. It
wasn’t until my girlfriend’s tattoo artist spent an entire session shuffling
their discography that I actually got to hear Every Time I Die, but by the end
of that hour, I knew I had to delve deeper. With only a few days’ hesitation, I
grabbed a copy of Gutter Phenomenon
and popped it into my car, to find I understood this act exactly as much as
everyone told me I would.
With
a band name as ostensibly metal as Every Time I Die, music that showcases
intensity is an absolute must, and these five musicians do not disappoint.
Guitarists Jordan Buckley and Andrew Williams race through heavy melodies and
distorted chord progressions, smashing metal grittiness together with
rock’n’roll feels that call to mind acts like Black Sabbath and Motörhead.[1] As Jordan reveals in an
interview with PureGrainAudio, the
band’s infatuation with their rock forefathers is thorough, so much so that the
album’s name is a callback to the genre’s beginnings, when the public saw rock
as music made “just for losers” that “appealed to the lowest of the low.”[2]
The
chugging and squealing guitars may dominate the mix, but only because drummer
Ratboy and bassist Kevin Falk (a Between the Buried & Me alumnus)[3] create a searing rhythmic
foundation. On Gutter Phenomenon,
Every Time I Die rips through hardcore punk tempos like they only have seconds
left to live, attacking each note so thoroughly that you can practically hear
the blisters forming on their fingers. Attach to this madness the piercing
vocals of Keith Buckley, who grows like a possessed lion into his microphone,
and the result is an almost sickeningly heavy sound that shatters the eardrums.
Without
doubt, the music on Gutter Phenomenon
writhes around like a serpent with its head cut off. The instrumentation is
dripping with energy, a fact partially driven by the composition of the music.
According to Jordan, the band strives to write riffs that are “not catchier,
but harder to forget.”[4] The band explores pretty
complex territory, swimming in syncopation during “Pretty Dirty” and messing
with time signatures in “Bored Stiff,” yet they manage to rip through each piece
with absolute intensity. As Jordan puts it, the band’s philosophy is simple:
“We’re going to be playing these songs every day…so let’s write songs we’re
never gonna get sick of playing.”[5] Every Time I Die commits
fully to making music they truly care about, and while much of their songs
tread the same worn metalcore territory almost ad nauseum, they load their
performances with fury, fun, and true honesty.
Although
Gutter Phenomenon has its fair share
of break downs, screeching minor second chords, and guttural screaming, Every
Time I Die manages to break up the monotony of a genre running dry by leaning
on older influences. Much of their guitar riffs are built around pentatonic and
blues scales that call back to the days of Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith, and no
song captures more rock’n’roll than “The New Black.” Instead of chugs, the
instrumentation revolves around a wild guitar riff reminiscent of rock’s heyday.
Both guitarists squeeze in trebly solos, and Ratboy even tastefully applies a
cowbell. Similarly, Keith Buckley focuses on singing far more than screaming,
and although his voice isn’t the most controlled, he really lays into his
catchy chorus lines: “Everything I do is wrong / But by God I do it right.”[6] With “The New Black,”
Every Time I Die takes the feel of 70’s rock music and applies a tasteful coat
of contemporary metal to the finish, calling back to the greats while
maintaining the band’s own signature grittiness.
The
package that Every Time I Die presents is very tight and thorough, but
remarkably, one of their greatest strengths is also their weakest link. Lead
singer and lyricist Keith Buckley perfectly embodies the metal frontman, and
his screaming voice is full and dark, as if he has demons raging in his lungs.
But where his heavy vocals reign, his singing voice is severely lacking, and he
applies it far too often for its own good. As his melodic parts in “Guitarredand Feathered” and “Apocalypse Now and Then” show, he has an exceedingly hard
time staying on pitch, and thus invites more wincing than applause.
In
a similar vein, Keith has a wonderful grasp on creating compelling images and
applying poetic principles to his lyrics, but the myriad random scene changes
in each song leave the overall pieces completely disjointed. With lines like
“We drew a crowd / The crowd drew blood” from “Champing at the Bit,” it is
obvious that Keith can wield his pen thoughtfully, but in the same song he
jumps between completely unrelated images, moving from “the tide is swelling
and we’ve fallen asleep on the shore” to “someone’s yelling fire in the
theater.”[7]
Although
Keith’s overload of disconnected images leaves a lot of Gutter Phenomenon feeling unevolved, in “L’Astronaut,” he actually manages
to impart a larger theme through the song. Amid changing time signatures and
grindcore guitar, Keith paints a scene of a decorated soldier returning from
war. His first lines depict the hero’s praise in a safe return, to which he
replies humbly: “Honestly, it was nothing / We should all just thank God I’m
alive.” Keith then dives beneath this modest façade, digging into the quiet
trauma of PTSD; with lines like “I’ve got a 21 gun salute playing over and over
and over in my head” and “I’m on call to be somewhere / Somewhere I’m not,”[8] Keith graciously hints at
the permanent mental scars so many veterans carry with them long after the
fight is over. In his own fragmented manner, Keith effectively describes a
hero’s return to his country while taking into consideration the damage war can
do to a soldier, turning “L’Astronaut” into a deft treatment of a narrative
that has been all-too-familiar for the past decade.
After
spinning Gutter Phenomenon for the
past two months, I am pleased to state that the music of Every Time I Die is
everything they said it would be. Their riffs rock hard and heavy in a way most
metal no longer dares, and their unbridled energetic performance is as
infectious as influenza. But most potent in their music is the band’s honesty—each
guttural scream and snare smash drips with a truth that is wholly Every Time I
Die. Gutter Phenomenon captures the
genuine imprint of these five musicians, humming a tone of honesty that rings
above all else, and in my opinion, that alone makes this record worth experiencing. Tunes to Check Out: 1) Gloom and How It Gets That Way 2) L'Astronaut 3) Tusk and Temper
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.
Who would
be so audacious, so utterly cocky, to claim they know the very first song
they’ve ever heard? Me, that’s who. Maybe not definitively, but I have a very
very good idea. All during my childhood, my father took great pleasure in the
task of waking me for school by spouting whatever nonsense was rattling around
in his head. Most of the time his non sequiturs were lyrics from songs he
loved, and no well seemed deeper than his log of Black Sabbath tunes. I cannot
impart even an estimation of how many mornings I was torn from sleep by my
father’s exclamation of “You see life through distorted eyes / You know you
have to learn!”[1]
Those
opening lines to “Sabbath Bloody Sabbath” have always been my dad’s standard
for his ridiculous wake-up calls, and odds are they were the first song lyrics
ever sung to me, though my association with them doesn’t end there. The parent
record of that song, Sabbath Bloody
Sabbath, has been in heavy rotation in my household for as long as I can
remember. Whether from my parents’ ancient monolith of a stereo or from my
father’s own mouth, I have been listening to this record for my entire
existence, and its tunes are threaded deep within my heart. It is as much a
part of me as my own hands, and after two decades, I think it’s about time I
dissected it to see just how deep those threads run.
I am
through and through a lover of rock, and I think it’s safe to say that the
maelstrom of Sabbath Bloody Sabbath
helped induct me into the world of grizzly distortion and booming basslines.
Tony Iommi’s Gibson SG, perpetually tuned down to D♭, is the epitome
of metal guitars, his power chords and melodies roaring beneath overlapping
solos. Terry “Geezer” Butler’s bass tone teeters on the edge of overdrive, his
lines wandering into blues territory before stomping back against the
ridiculous rhythms laid down by Bill Ward, who hits his drums so hard you can
actually hear his mics clipping. On top
of all of this, Ozzy Osbourne wails, his crisp, dynamic vocals soaring through
the heights in “Killing Yourself to Live” and bordering an infuriated scream in
“Sabbath Bloody Sabbath.” The sound that this quartet has cultivated has become
both iconic and inspirational to thousands of acts, marking the way for
generations of metalheads through the chilling, gloomy territory that Black
Sabbath calls home, and for me, the darkness is nowhere stronger than on Sabbath Bloody Sabbath.
There’s no
shortage of metal intensity on this record,
but Sabbath Bloody Sabbath is far
more dynamic in sound and shape than previous Black Sabbath records, and
actually marks the beginning of the band’s journey into musical
experimentation. Amidst the chaotic, crushing rock, the band has interspersed
countless other instruments and textures. Acoustic guitars take prominent
positions in the composition of “Looking for Today” and the title track, while
synthesizers add depth and excitement to virtually every tune on the record,
even taking center stage in “Who Are You” And Black Sabbath takes it even
further, pulling out a harpsichord for “Fluff” and a flute for “Looking for
Today,” going so far as to summon a full string section for “Spiral Architect.”
In fact, the distinct lack of either bagpipes or sitar is due only to the fact
that Tony Iommi had not yet learned either instrument to his satisfaction while
recording. [2]
Although
only eight songs long, Sabbath Bloody
Sabbath is a powerhouse record, a landmark for the Black Sabbath and the
myriad acts that followed in their footsteps, not to mention for myself. It is
loaded with musical moments and face-melting lines that have resonated within
me for as long as I’ve been alive. Upon listening to it straight through with
my father recently (something he hadn’t done in decades), I feel that it is
finally time to give this monster its due.
1.Sabbath Bloody Sabbath
Opening with the riff that “saved” Black Sabbath,[3]
“Sabbath Bloody Sabbath” tears open this record like a raucous cannon. Tony
Iommi’s signature tone crams itself down our ears while Ozzy’s vocals attack
the naysayers of the band, screaming at the “bastards” who “tell you that
you’re on your own” and “fill your head all full of lies.”[4]
According to Geezer, the band’s primary lyricist, the song is a
“backs-to-the-wall rant” aimed at “the critics, the record business in
general…management and everyone who was trying to cash in on us.”[5]
The anger inherent in the lyrics feels just as apparent in the composition;
every cymbal crash and bass growl drips with ire and disgust.
Besides its inspirationally dark tone, “Sabbath Bloody Sabbath” is a model
of metal in its composition as well. The tune eschews a verse/chorus
alternation in favor of a series of suites, a choice that has since become a
staple of the metal genre. After sloshing about in the mosh-worthy intro riffs,
the song launches into a disgustingly dark palm-muted section before sliding
into a swung outro. While all three parts have their merits, it is this middle
section that grips the mind, and which rock legend Slash considers to be one of
the heaviest riffs ever written.[6] The band’s choice to include in the riff both
the major and minor 3rds of the scale, coupled with Ozzy’s despairing intonations
of lines like “Living just for dying / dying just for you,” have helped to
define an entire musical atmosphere, and consistently rattle me to my core with
each listen.[7]
2.A National Acrobat
Haunting and spacious, “A National Acrobat” is another Sabbath standard
and one of my father’s favorites. According to Iommi, it was Geezer who
composed the skulking intro riff[8]
that moves like sludge through water. Between distorted chords and Ward’s walloping
drum beats, the song wanders into a wah-drenched B-section, over which Ozzy’s
vocals drift like distant echoes through an expanse of sound as he waxes
philosophical: “Don’t believe the life you have will be the only one / You have
to let your body sleep to let your soul live on.”[9]
“A National Acrobat” is a thoroughly metaphysical piece, the
instrumentation a sprawl of thought and feeling which greatly reflects the
meaning behind the lyrics. Geezer states that the tune is a musing on “who
selects what sperm gets through to the egg,”[10] a
fascinating and original idea that dips as much into science as it does
religion. While Geezer’s lyrics brilliantly portray this inconceivable idea, it
is Ozzy’s vocals that give it life. His delay-heavy harmonies and piercing
highs create the impression of multiple beings singing as one, like a legion of
never-born souls wondering when they will be chosen to exist. From conception
to delivery, "A National Acrobat" is chilling and intricate,
exploring some thought-provoking territory into which few minds have ventured.
3.Fluff
Almost entirely Iommi’s doing, "Fluff" is just that—a fluff
piece, a space-filler on the record, but at the same time, it’s a chance for a
guitarist known for his grueling tone to flaunt some of his more light-hearted
influences. Written as a tribute to DJ Alan "Fluff" Freeman,[11]
"Fluff" deftly captures a classical feel, layering piano and even a
harpsichord over interlocking guitar melodies, drawing the focus to the entire
piece rather than a single instrument. Iommi almost entirely avoids using an
electric guitar, instead pulling his melodies out from acoustics both 6-string
and 12-string, and dropping in mere hints of a reverby electric to further open
up the song. Although somewhat uneventful, "Fluff" shows us a side of
Black Sabbath most people don’t think exists, and acts as a nice dedication to
a man who helped the band find a following in their early days.
4.Sabbra Cadabra
With speedy guitar licks and Ozzy's energetic singing, "Sabbra
Cadabra" falls more under the label of rock'n'roll than metal, but Black
Sabbath easily manages to conquer this more ear-pleasing style with their own
dark flair. In fact, even in its earliest stages it appeared to be a favorite
among friends of the band—upon visiting the studio, Led Zeppelin's John Bonham
was apparently eager to drum with the band on it, and Yes keyboardist Rick
Wakeman, who lays down some heavy synth in the bridge, apparently refused
payment with anything but beer and jamming for his contribution.[12]
Iommi's dexterous melodies on "Sabbra Cadabra" are respected even
today, so much so that Metallica even medleyed it with "A National
Acrobat" for their 1998 cover album Garage, Inc., choosing it over
a plethora of more celebrated Sabbath tunes.[13]
There is a lot to love in "Sabbra Cadabra," but the most
stand-out performance comes from Geezer's bass. With a tone I can only describe
as a roar, Geezer spends half the tune covering rhythm, his low end booming
with Ward's kick drum, and the other half strutting, walking smoothly out of
the choruses and peppering pentatonic runs underneath the drum fills. It is his
bass that pulls the band together and pushes it forward, connecting the melody
work of Iommi and Ozzy and gluing it to Ward's hectic rhythm, cementing
"Sabbra Cadabra" as a rocking centerpiece on Sabbath Bloody
Sabbath.
5.Killing Yourself to Live
My father's anthem, "Killing Yourself to Live" is perhaps the
best example on Sabbath Bloody Sabbath of the band's brand of catastrophic
metal. Iommi's guitar kicks the tune off with a behemoth guitar riff that still
stands as one of my favorites, and his rampaging power chords in the chorus
immerse the listener in shadows. The gloomy A-section somehow slips into the
manic coda, across which Iommi overlays two guitar solos while Ozzy's vocals
spiral into absolute madness with the lines: "I don’t know if I'm up or
down / Whether black is white or blue is brown / The colors in my life are all
different somehow / Little boy blue's a big girl now."
While Iommi's shredding guitar conquers the instrumentation, it is
Geezer's lyrics that truly give the song life. Written whilst in the hospital
for alcohol-induced kidney issues, "Killing Yourself to Live" breaks
down the pendulous experience of the rockstar life—how the four of them
struggled to make a living as musicians, and in receiving their fame, now
continually destroy themselves with substances to cope with the pressures and
stress of stardom. And with lines like "Just take a look around you, what
do you see? / Pain, suffering and misery / It's not the way that the world was
meant," this lyrical theme of suffering to survive can easily be expounded
into the more general, working-man's anthem that it has become for my father, chronicling
the struggle to endure and provide in the modern world.[14]
6.Who Are You
Upon first listen, "Who Are You"
feels somewhat like another throwaway tune, with its simplistic arrangement and
quiet energy, but after continuous sampling, the significance buried in
"Who Are You" arises to the forefront. This tune is one of the first
to effectively mix synthesizers into a metal sound, and indeed, the
phaser-laden tone of Ozzy's Moog immerses the song in a creepy mood, a soft but
heavy counterpoint to Ward’s crashing cymbals and Iommi's melodious piano.[15]
The spacious
sound of the song adds to the metaphysical tone of the entire album, which is
furthered by the piece’s lyrical condemnation of authority. Ozzy’s accusatory
tone in the lines “You’re just like me, brother / Giving up your trust / And
when you have played enough / You’ll just cast our souls / Into the dust,”
pulls the high-and-mighty down to his own level, allowing his final query of
“Who are you?” to simultaneously ring political and spiritual. Although one of
the more placid tunes on the record, both the philosophical writing and ominous
instrumentation on “Who Are You” insist that it belongs nowhere else but on Sabbath
Bloody Sabbath.[16]
7.Looking for Today
The unequivocal star of this song has to be Bill Ward, whose emphatic,
animated drumming completely defines the feel of "Looking for Today."
With grace and fervor he chugs and slams and thumps his kit, painting a vibrant
backdrop over which Iommi and Geezer are able to weave elaborate riffs. Ward's
exuberance behind the kit feeds also into the other members' performances, as
Ozzy yanks wailing high notes from his core while Geezer's bass bellows in time
with the drums.
Besides the percussion, "Looking for Today" is also home to
the most cohesive and thorough lyrical ideas on Sabbath Bloody Sabbath.
Another analysis of the hectic hell that is the music business, "Looking
for Today" poignantly preaches a philosophy of enjoying the moments you
have, because they fly away all too fast. Geezer delivers this message through
a long string of original paradoxes, capturing the fleeting feel of fame with
lines like "Sunday's star is Monday's scar / Out of date before you're even
seen" and "In demand, but secondhand / It's been heard before you
even play." With "Looking for Today," Black Sabbath tears apart
any pretense that the rockstar life is easy, instead using their energetic,
upbeat rock to urge up-and-coming acts to enjoy the moments they have, because
"tomorrow is another dream."[17]
8.Spiral Architect
As the album's closer, "Spiral Architect" manages to
encapsulate all the lyrical themes of Sabbath Bloody Sabbath while
simultaneously presenting the best individual idea on the record. Written by
Geezer in one of his more "contemplative" states, this tune explores
how both experiences and genetics play a role in "creating an
individual," which is perhaps one of the most unique lyrical concepts I've
ever encountered.[18]
He loads the song with heavy images, implying the many experiences, beautiful
and horrifying, that come together to shape the human. His wording is virtually
flawless, even down to his diction choices, such as the immediate juxtaposition
of a "child of god sitting in the sun" with the image of a weeping
father. And just as his speaker sees the culmination of these things and
"know[s] that they are good," so too does "Spiral Architect"
wrap up the metaphysical journey that is Sabbath Bloody Sabbath.[19]
“Spiral Architect” certainly has the feel of an introspective
"epic," and similar to the lyrics, Black Sabbath spares nothing in
the instrumental sound of their concluding salvo. Iommi's meditative guitar
intro quickly leads way into an all-out frenzy of hard-rocking guitars and
thundering drums, while Ozzy's mourning yet spritely vocal flits in and out of
the listener's ears. The energy the band captures in this tune is inspiring and
powerful in itself, yet they take it one step further with the addition of a
string section, conducted by a mad and
miming Ozzy Osbourne.[20]
The addition of an orchestra into Black Sabbath's overdriven metal blends two
distinct if not opposing styles of music, shaping "Spiral Architect" into
a fitting finale for an ambitious record.
When dissected from a lyrical perspective,
listening to Sabbath Bloody Sabbath is like peeking into the personal
diary of the band as these four musicians attempt to determine their place and
purpose in the world. Both “A National Acrobat” and “Spiral Architect” delve
into the notions of what shapes a human into a person from both a physical and
psychological sense, giving equal voice to the effects fate and experience have
in carving an individual. Similarly, “Looking for Today” and “Sabbath Bloody
Sabbath” analyze existence from an artistic standpoint, a map of the struggles
of maintaining a creative identity in the face of opposition, especially when
the very forces that should be pushing you to succeed are in fact trying to
stifle you. Finally, "Killing Yourself to Live” self-consciously
acknowledges the struggles of coping with the life of a rock star, admitting
openly to the self-destructive tendencies that provide such a simple escape.
With these themes in mind, it becomes apparent
that Sabbath Bloody Sabbath must be a very important record for Black
Sabbath, having been written at a time when they thought they “were finished as
a band.” Between non-stop touring and profuse “drug use and hard partying,”[21]
Black Sabbath felt “absolutely, completely exhausted,” resulting in a harrying
period of writer’s block that seemed interminable.[22]
Simultaneously, mounting tensions between the band and its management as well
as brooding resentment among the members themselves further dammed the creative
flow and threatened to halt Black Sabbath’s dwindling momentum entirely.[23]
It was only until they relocated back to England and began practicing in
Clearwell Castle that the ideas began to flow again, and as one spin of this
record will tell you, those ideas would leave a huge impact both in the world
of metal and on the lives of fans, myself included.
Because of how heavy the situation was for Black
Sabbath as they entered into the studio to record their fifth LP, the resulting
music is an honest and truthful reaction to their world at that time. In trying
to break the molds of their past endeavors and all the baggage that followed,
they innovated with new instruments and composition styles that elevated their
sound to levels previously unexplored. In coming face-to-face with the true
struggles, internal and external, of being a musician, the lyrics on Sabbath
Bloody Sabbath blatantly assess the situations of drug abuse, bad
management, and general exhaustion, and attempt to pull a light from the
darkness by confronting it openly. As Geezer puts it, “people feel evil things,
but nobody ever sings about what’s frightening and evil” even though “the world
is a right fucking shambles,”[24]
but with Sabbath Bloody Sabbath, Black Sabbath gives voice and presence
to the evil in their lives in a fight to conquer it wholly.
Sabbath Bloody Sabbath is a record of growth, an attempt for these four musicians to find out
what it means to be both an individual person and a member of Black Sabbath. It
is a journal of their journey through an important period in their history, and
has since impacted the lives of countless fans. It entered my father’s life just
as he began high school, and thus was one of the whetstones that sharpened him
into the unique man he is today. Similarly, Sabbath Bloody Sabbath has
been an integral piece of my soundtrack, a presence as constant in my life as
the sun, and almost certainly my stands as introduction into rock music. The
pure honesty and wholesome darkness that drips from this disc has followed me
through almost all of my life experiences thus far, and continues to shine as
one of my strongest draws for inspiration in my creative endeavors. And just as
my father passed it onto me, so now I attempt to pass it onto you: give Sabbath Bloody Sabbath a spin, and don’t
be surprised if what you take from it far outweighs the half hour you gave.
Though I
have an obvious obsession with music, it is not an all-encompassing
infatuation. Some music in no way appeals to my sonic palate, and as such,
there is a group of bands whose mention will immediately elicit disdain from
me. For some acts, I can justify my aversion, but for others, my gut reaction
of scorn has no real genesis or source. For reasons I can’t explain, Switchfoot
has always been on that list. However, when I (reluctantly) gave The Legend of Chin a shot, I found
myself chewing on a heady mouthful of crow, because the music this band
presents on their debut is both exciting and stimulating.
After
spinning The Legend of Chin for a few
weeks, I find myself rather surprised that Switchfoot was able to generate such
a dynamic feel on their first record. Each of the eleven songs touch on a
different section of the spectrum between the genres of pop and punk: “Home”
and “You” seem tailored to fit into the Top 40, while “Edge of My Seat” and “Bomb”
tap into fast beats and distorted guitars that could certainly keep a crowd
moving. Furthermore, the sound that these three musicians produce is just as
intricate and well-defined. Jon Foreman’s guitar chords and melodies interlock
gracefully with Tim Foreman’s fluid bass lines, the two brothers’ complementing
each without once muddying the music, a fact that says as much about the mixing
as it does the composition. Moving along with this grace is the band’s forceful
performance, imbued with a passion that Jon calls the “once-in-a-lifetime
urgency that breathes down the neck of my soul and makes me cry or laugh or
throw something.”[1]The Legend of Chin collects all of
Switchfoot’s burgeoning creativity and consciousness and uses it to fill the
few and hardly-noticeable seams in these songs, forcing this record to stand
out further than just a debut.
All three
of the instrumentalists in Switchfoot find moments to show off considerable
skill and creativity, but the real strength seems to stem from Jon’s unique and
guitar-driven songwriting. Many of the songs show an understanding of chord
progression and melody composition rarely seen outside of jazz, perhaps
stemming from the fact that Jon considers himself a “major Led Zeppelin fan.”[2] For instance, the
intelligent shape of the melody allows “Might Have Ben Hur” to change keys
across a tritone in the chorus, while the main progression in “Chem 6A” avoids
being cliché by implying a descending chromatic riff underneath itself. Little
interesting moments find their way into every tune, whether it be the chromatic
hits in “Life and Love and Why” or even the multifaceted structure of “Don’t Be
There,” keeping the listener interested without forcing technicalities into his
ears. Jon’s approach to songwriting involves just enough music theory to avoid
reusing worn-out ideas, but features a delicate restraint as well, allowing
those songs to rock hard and get stuck in our heads, just as they were meant to
do.
Many of
Switchfoot’s musical decisions are shrewd in their application, and it is not
surprising to find the same attention in the lyric writing, albeit a different
type of subtlety. Anyone who has heard of Switchfoot has undoubtedly caught
wind of their Christian roots and following, an idea which extends all the way
to their debut. However, when taking a close look at the lyrics on The Legend of Chin, there is nothing
preachy or blatantly Christian to be found.In fact, the only direct reference to God is in “Ode to Chin,” with the
line “Life’s more than girls / God’s more than words / You’re more than this;”[3] otherwise, the positive
and uplifting message that saturates Jon’s verse is presented in a neutral but
effective manner. Foreman tailors his phrasing so that the subjects of songs
like “You” and “Bomb” can be taken either as a god or a person—the language
alone is purely positive, a text which can be supplemented by the band’s
beliefs without shoving them down our throats.
Jon’s
decision to turn belief into a subtext rather than allowing it to dominate his
pieces shows some serious control of language; however, the actual lyrical work
on The Legend of Chin is hardly as
resolute. Much of Jon’s language is so simple that it borders on the juvenile,
and the record is completely loaded with clichés, such as line “the bridges
that I’ve burned” in “Home”[4] or the everlasting wedding
promise “for better or worse” in “Might Have Ben Hur.”[5] Undeveloped or
unimaginative lines are scattered throughout the record, but there are some
good moments as well. Jon expertly epitomizes the idea of teenaged indifference
in “Chem 6A,”[6]
only to confront it in “Bomb” with the opening line “With blankness staring
back at me / And screaming from the pages / I feel the fear of apathy /
Gripping me, pushing me on.”[7] Also, “Concrete Girl” is
soaked in language both cold and unmoving, thus solidifying the themes into a
vivid emotional image.
One of the
most developed lyrical ideas on the record comes from the song “Underwater,”
especially in their juxtaposition against the instrumentation. Across changing
dynamics and a plethora of bluesy guitar chords, Jon relates to us the woes of
a girl who has “nothing to be” because “she’s already been.” Against a catchy
beat and rhythmic swings, we watch the subject of the song struggle to find
meaning, starting fresh again and again only to end up “down [in] the bottle”
as she always does. According to Jon, “The girl in Underwater faces the dilemma
of modern humanity” in a world “where nothing really matters.”[8] The simple phrases Jon
employs through the song envision depression as the empty and unsupportive
landscape that surrounds this girl. The lyrics lack for any positivity, but
even the melody that carries them is upbeat, reminding us that even when life
seems at its darkest, there is always something bright hiding just behind it,
if only we will reach for it.
If the
cognitive arrangement of “Underwater” is any evidence, The Legend of Chin shows some remarkable maturity in a group whose
oldest member was twenty-three at the time of recording. There is an array of diverse
sounds from which to choose, and even the simplest songs have something
meaningful to offer. Switchfoot’s jazz-tinged punk imbued with pop melody is
tasteful and refreshing, a sound built on top of youthful enthusiasm and an
overwhelming belief that “a song could go anywhere.”[9] For me, these songs have
far surpassed my meager expectations, unfounded as they may have been, and I
can happily say I may soon explore more of their catalog because of it.
