Thoughts On The Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame Induction

On Saturday, the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame inducted its five new members for 2009: Bobby Womack, Little Anthony & The Imperials, Jeff Beck, Run-DMC and the evening’s headliners, Metallica. As I wrote in a previous post, it’s unforgivable that the Stooges (and many other bands for that matter) haven’t been inducted yet. However, whining doesn’t do any good at this point. Enough YouTube clips of the induction have surfaced that I feel compelled to comment on those artists who did get the honor of being Hall Of Fame rockers.

Of course, Metallica got the most attention of the night. With droves of screaming metal heads filling the balconies of the Hall Of Fame museum (which is in Cleveland), James Hetfield, Kirk Hammet, Lars Ulrich and both surviving bassists Jason Newsted and Rob Trujillo (R.I.P. Cliff Burton) made their way on stage to accept their award. The usual humble speeches were given, thanking everyone’s respective families, spouses and friends. A lot has been said about Metallica being the first true metal band inducted into the Hall, but looking at these five well-dressed, smiling gentlemen, I realized how far metal has evolved since it began. Decades ago, people called it the music of Satan. Now, just like every other type of controversial music before it, metal has been accepted by the mainstream. Amazing how these things happen, isn’t it?

They followed the speeches with a version of “Master Of Puppets” that was so sloppy and so fast, it threatened to collapse in on itself. They were obviously having the time of their lives on that stage, but the music suffered mightily, losing most of its precision and control. Playing with two bassists also muddied the sound of the song. Worst of all, the performance showed just how weak Hetfield’s voice sounds these days. His old bark has been worn away by years of performing and the rigors of life, now sounding strangely thin and strained. Thankfully, they played one more song, a loose-but-enjoyable “Enter Sandman”. It certainly wasn’t a fantastic performance, but the band sounded much more comfortable performing this time, finding a nice groove and staying there. Plus, they got the whole Hall Of Fame audience pumping their fists in the air in time to the music. How fucking badass is that?

The other highlights that have found their way onto YouTube include Eminem’s speech inducting Run-DMC and an all-star jam session honoring Jeff Beck. The former is particularly fascinating, especially since Eminem seems like the most appropriate choice to induct the hip-hop pioneers. Without Run-DMC bringing rap into the mainstream awareness, the idea of a *gasp!* white rapper would have probably never happened. Em seemed suitably humbled to even be there, honoring his heroes, all while dressed in their trademark black jacket and fedora. However, in contrast to his strong, reverential speech, the horribly overblown Jeff Beck jam was a textbook example of overkill. Featuring six guitarists and three bassists, the collected musicians (including all of Metallica, Beck himself, Ron Wood from the Stones, Jimmy Page, Aerosmith’s Joe Perry and finally Flea) ran through a demented version of “Train Kept ‘A Rolling All Light Long”. Let’s at least hope the performers were having fun.

(Any clips of Run-DMC performing or the other inductees being honored haven’t found their way onto the internet yet.)

PS: During his speech, James Hetfield read a list of bands he felt should be inducted into the Hall Of Fame now that Metallica has broken down the door for hard rock and heavy metal, including very deserving acts like Thin Lizzy and Motorhead. However, the Stooges were not on that list. Shame on you, Hetfield.

Colors And Numbers And Words

Artist: The Thermals

Album: Now We Can See

Year: 2009

Grade: 3.5 pretzels

The Thermals make punk far too fun. Somehow, they manage to write bitter, acid-spitting songs and then record them like they were the sunniest of pop music. With songs that sound clean and almost always major-key, the Portland, OR, band has quietly recorded three very strong albums since 2003. They even managed to record the Holy Grail of punk rock: a concept album. 2006’s The Body, The Blood, The Machine was centered around some strange narrative about Christian dictatorships in a dystopian future. Even then, the bright power chords kept chugging away. The Thermals are a bit of a strange band.

Now We Can See is neither a step forward nor a step back for them. Rather, it’s exactly what their fans are probably expecting. Strong power pop guitars form the backbone, with a steady rhythm section holding things together. The songs have titles like “When I Died” and “We Were Sick”. Only a few songs exceed an efficient three minutes. There may not be many surprises, but if you’re a Thermals fan, you probably won’t be complaining.

Coming on the tails of an album about religious fascists, Now We Can See does seem a bit less focused. Since all the Thermals’ songs follow the same formula, they tend to blend together without a lofty storyline holding them together. However, there are a few songs that jump out. The shout-along title track sounds like it would be incredibly fun live, while the lengthy “At The Bottom Of The Sea” actually stretches out and relaxes a bit, in the process becoming one of the saddest songs the band has ever recorded. It’s a refreshing new sound from a band that has always seemed dead-set on one style.

It’s difficult to review an album that exactly matches your expectations. Part of the fun of listening to an album is discovering things you didn’t see coming. However, it’s certainly better than releasing a disappointing album. With Now We Can See, I expected a strong batch of punk-pop and that’s what the Thermals delivered. It’ll never be my favorite album and I probably won’t even be listening to it much after this review. But I don’t want to detract from the quality of the album. Although there’s nothing surprising here, this album is a strong and enjoyable slice of sunny punk rock. Is that so bad?

Who's Simon Defending Now?: The Police

Everyone has a point in their life when “Every Breath You Take” was irrevocably renamed “The Stalker Song”. Mention the Police to anybody and that song is usually what comes to mind. However, I no longer feel I can stand by and let one of the greatest bands of the early 80s have their legacy reduced to one melodramatic hit single. This week, I defend the Police!

People have amazing connotations attached to the Police: 80s, schlock, pretentious, MOR, overrated and generally lame. The general consensus among modern listeners is that they were a dumbed-down, accessible New Wave band that pandered to people’s love of catchy tunes. 1983’s Synchronicity is their only album that ever gets mentioned in “Best Albums Of Whatever” lists, mostly because it has two of their most famous singles (“Every Breath” and “King Of Pain”). However, the reality of the Police is infinitely more complicated. I maintain that they were one of the finest and most innovative bands operating between 1978 and 1985. The Police were the bridge connecting the visceral lessons of punk to the mainstream acceptance of New Wave. So much time has passed that people have forgotten that the Police were controversial once upon a time.

Back in 1979, the Police were Public Enemy No. 1. The world has accepted “Roxanne” as a staple of radio rock and 80s nostalgia, but back then, all anybody saw was a band that released a song about a prostitute as their second single. They followed that with “Can’t Stand Losing You”, a song that directly alluded to suicide. The single’s cover featured drummer Stewart Copeland hanging from a noose while standing on a block of melting ice. England was in an uproar about this horrible, offensive new punk band. The BBC even pressured them into changing the offending album cover. Clearly, the controversial roots of the Police cannot be questioned. This kind of provocation was certainly tempered down as their career went on, but you can still hear traces of it in the unsettling narrative of “Don’t Stand So Close To Me” and, yes, even everyone’s favorite stalker anthem.

Another strength of the Police was their incredible consistency. For such a famous band, it’s important to remember that they only existed for seven years. In that time, they recorded five incredible albums, each building and expanding on the strengths of the last. The earliest albums, Outlandos D’Amour (1978) and Reggatta De Blanc (1979), capture the band in their rawest, most punk phase, while their final two, Ghost In The Machine (1981) and the aforementioned Synchronicity, are more polished but showcase some of the best songwriting of the band’s career. Sandwiched between the two is my personal favorite, their transitional Zenyatta Mondatta from 1980. It has just enough reckless energy to be thrilling, while hinting at the glistening pop mastery that was to come. All these albums, however, are very strong. Most bands would kill for this level of consistency.

Finally, the aspect of the band that I feel goes most overlooked is their mind-blowing instrumental abilities. Copeland’s drumming is some of the most dexterous and mobile I’ve ever heard. Whether it’s the crisp, sharp snare hits of “Spirits In The Material World” or the absolutely insane scattershot of rhythm on “Walking On The Moon”, he executes everything perfectly. Guitarist Andy Summers is equally talented, although in considerably more subtle ways. His shimmering chords and arpeggios sound simple, but the chords he’s playing simply don’t make sense. You have to bend your hands into pretzels just to hold them on a guitar neck, let alone play them. Finally, Sting needs to be acknowledged as a great innovator on the bass (and as one of the tragically few bass-playing frontmen). His nimble, soulful basslines do much more than hold the songs together. Often, they function as both the rhythm and melody line, acting as the entire core of the song (ex. “The Bed’s Too Big Without You”). The Police were practically bursting at the seams with musical talent.

I understand that the Police do have their weak points. Sting has never been a great lyricist, especially after he decided yuppies were his target market. Occasionally, the Police’s songs fall a bit too deep into the pool of corniness. However, these moments are mercifully few. Even in the last days of their recording career, they found a way to record the impossibly creepy “Wrapped Around Your Finger” and the blistering “Synchronicity II”, complete with deranged lyrics about the Loch Ness monster. Yes, Nessie’s in a Police song. Awesome, right? I think the biggest testament to my love for this band comes from my senior year in high school. While other kids were asking for cars for graduation, I asked for a ticket to the Police’s reunion show in Seattle. And y’know what? They rocked. To this day, the poster I bought at the concert hangs in my dorm room, proudly proclaiming my love for one of the most underrated bands in history.

Back On The Right Track

Artist: Peter Doherty

Album: Grace/Wastelands

Year: 2009

Grade: 4 pretzels

Pete Doherty has spent so much of the past five years in the embrace of drugs and/or Kate Moss that I often forget that he’s an actual musician. When he broke into the scene with the Libertines in 2002, it appeared that he was ready to replace Blur’s Damon Albarn as the “voice of young England.” The Libertines' songs, particularly everything from their first album, Up The Bracket, showed a remarkable affinity for classic English songwriting, ranging from the pastoral reminiscing of the Kinks to the urban punch-ups of the Who. Sadly, the Libertines collapsed into a haze of drug problems and drama, ending their career far too soon. Doherty went on to front Babyshambles, a terrifyingly ramshackle group that recorded two unimpressive albums.

Now, in 2009, he seems to be slowly getting his life on the right track. His on-again/off-again drug addictions continue, but he’s broken things off (for now) with Kate Moss, which can only be a good sign. And he’s got a new record to boot. Taking a stab at a solo career (under the name “Peter Doherty”), Grace/Wastelands is a departure from anything Doherty has done up until now. Abandoning the fuzzy rock of Libertines and Babyshambles, Doherty’s letting his songs speak for themselves, rising out of a simple accompaniment of acoustic guitar, assorted percussion and tasteful backing vocals. It’s a change, but a welcome one.

The biggest touchstone for this album is the songwriting of Ray Davies for the Kinks. “Last Of The English Roses”, one of the album’s finest songs, captures the exact type of nostalgia and bitterness the Kinks were famous for. Words like “dapper,” “trousers” and “cheeky” pop up all over this album, evoking a very specific, very British sensibility. The vague historical nod of “1939 Returning” is also in keeping with the general Kinks-ish feel of the album. Doherty doesn’t get too many points for originality, but even if he’s ripping off older bands, he’s doing it surprisingly well for a drug-addled English lout who rarely seems to know who he even is at any given time.

Musically, this is the most coherent Doherty has ever been. The album has a cohesive atmosphere and feel, with everything sounding like it was cut from the same cloth. The songs are kept short and sweet, never drifting into overlong jams or instrumental vamping. Even Doherty’s voice, which has always been prone to drunken slurs and warbling, seems a bit more focused than usual. When he does fall back to mumbling and sighing, as on the bar-room swagger of “Sweet By And By”, it fits the song perfectly.

By now, I think we can say with some certainty that Pete Doherty will not be the next great English songwriter (Arctic Monkey’s Alex Turner gets my vote for that title, by the way). However, an album like Grace/Wastelands proves that it’s far too soon to write Doherty off completely. In the face of his continuing personal problems, he’s somehow managed to organize himself enough to record a lovely little album, capturing a quick slice of English life. Jolly good.

Marching To The Wrong Drum

Artist: Depeche Mode

Album: Sounds Of The Universe

Year: 2009

Grade: 3.5 pretzels

Depeche Mode are the great survivors among synth-pop bands. Those of their peers who are lucky enough to still be standing after the 80s have been reduced to toothless, for-the-cash husks of their former selves (*cough* Duran Duran). Depeche Mode are the only ones who evolved with the times, adapting their signature sound to match. They officially left the 80s behind with 1997’s Ultra album, which transformed them into an industrial psycho-drama band. Now, over a decade later, when the influence of 80s synth music can be found all the way in hip-hop, it seems like it might be time for Depeche Mode to return to their roots. However, on Sounds Of The Universe, the band continues their recent trend of ominous, metallic atmospheres.

Sounds Of The Universe has the same problem as every other Depeche Mode album: it’s wildly inconsistent. Not unlike the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Depeche Mode are (and always will be) a singles band. The best way to listen to their music is to wait for a greatest hits compilation and let the brilliance wash over you. Sadly, with the possible exception of 1990’s Violator, they’ve never recorded a studio album that’s strong from end-to-end. Even with the three-year gap separating Sounds from their last album, there are too many songs here that could be classified as “filler.”

That isn’t to say there aren’t moments of transcendent music. The lead single “Wrong”, naturally, is perfect modern Depeche Mode. Single-minded and unsettling (and blessed with an incredible music video), it easily joins the ranks of the band’s best work. Possible second single “Come Back”, filling the requisite “uneasy ballad” slot on the album, is another standout. As always, Dave Gahan’s voice sells the songs perfectly, adding just the right amount of angst, pathos or rage that each individual song needs.

The weakest moments on Depeche Mode albums tend to be when Gahan takes a backseat, letting songwriter Martin Gore sing the lead vocal. This holds true on Sounds, as Gore’s “Jezebel” is remarkable only for how easy it is to forget. However, unlike other Depeche Mode albums, that’s the only song Gore sings here. The other misses on the album include the opening one-two misfire of “In Chains” and “Hole To Feed”, neither of which ever get off the ground. The album picks up steam after that, but opening with two of your weakest tracks is never a good plan.

Musically, there’s plenty of good stuff going on here. I find it ironic that, after they inspired bands like Nine Inch Nails with their 80s output, Depeche Mode have ended up sounding just like NIN twenty years later. The same insistent beats and seedy melody lines are all over Sounds. However, this kind of music does match Gore’s songs incredibly well. Gore’s subject matter has only gotten darker as time has gone by. I keep hoping that one day, everything will click and Depeche Mode will be able to record their long-overdue “perfect album.” I know they can do it. Unfortunately, although there are many strong moments on Sounds Of The Universe, it looks like I’ll have to keep waiting for now.