It's not often I get to participate in a private anthropological field study, let alone one that's pants-optional. However, this weekend I'm a cultural warrior battling mano-a-mano for the soul of American music. Hyperbole? Probably. Essentially true? That would be yes. Wiggins, Mississippi, is the site of Wigginstock, a two-day symposium on the future of rock 'n' roll. Panel discussions include: "Shorts on Stage, Laptops, and Other Performance No-No's" and "Are Ironic Mustaches Killing Indie Rock?"
These debates, as you can imagine, are mere appetizer to two days worth of live sets from the likes of Glossary, Cary Hudson of Blue Mountain, and possible MVPs-in-waiting, Ghost Shirt. The full lineup is below, including a sample of each artist's music. I also plan on tweeting throughout the weekend, so keep your tweetdeck tuned to @adioslounge. Remember, Wigginstock isn't trust-fund hipsters in fancy shoes. Wigginstock is American music.
L-R: Jon Wurster (drums), Laura Ballance (bass, vocals), Jim Wilbur (guitar), Mac McCaughan (guitar, vocals, songwriting)
Once upon a time, Superchunk was the little band that could. Then, they were the slightly bigger band that did. From 1991-95, they were a melodic punk turbine of flawless, as a studio outfit, as songwriters and arrangers, and especially as a live unit. They got slightly bigger, their live shows were still great, but burnout was in the air as early as 1996-97. They finally hung it up in 2001, save for a few shows each year. Then, just when they were being fitted for their indie rock forefather robes, Superchunk released the goddamn album of the year. I'll admit that I'm biased. Superchunk was one of my favorite bands at a formative time in my life, the immediate pre-internet, Paleolithic Era. By that I mean, you're of a certain age if "flyers on telephone poles" means something to you. I'm in my 40s and am conditioned to believe that bands in their 40s aren't supposed to be relevant, let alone producing the album of the year. But, Superchunk's new album, Majesty Shredding, is both the title and an apt description of its contents.
Last month, Superchunk played Jimmy Fallon's Super Happy Fun Slide and promptly turned the studio into a big puddle of happy goo. All you have to do is watch John Darnielle of The Mountain Goats, guesting here on backup vocals. He looks like he just found out he's getting a box of orgasms for Christmas.
Pogo = The new old black
Superchunk isn't the first band whose records, even the outright classics, ultimately take a backseat to their live shows. What makes their gigs unique is that the audience is still uniquely helpless in the vortex of their Pogo. I'm not talking one or two isolated pockets, I'm talking hundreds of people bouncing up and down with infectious, childlike enthusiasm throughout the show. Of course, if you were at one of their gigs and heard this, why would you react any other way?
Superchunk's legacy rests on McCaughan's gift for sugar sweet melody. And for all the beautifully arranged noise inherent in many of the Chunk's best recordings, the songs themselves would be just as good played on a single acoustic guitar. And frankly, I'd be shocked if the origin of most Superchunk songs wasn't simply Mac and an acoustic guitar.
Of course, once the acoustic foundation is laid down, McCaughan and Jim Wilbur turn those delicate melodies into a wall of face-melting guitars. What's cool about the McCaughan/Wilbur guitar section is that it's less about dueling solos than it is about weaving riffs and octave chords, and well-placed single-string leads, usually courtesy of the underrated McCaughan.
One good minute will last me a whole year
"The First Part" is on 1994's Foolish LP and I think it's one of the best songs of the 1990s. It's certainly one of the best videos, not only because Laura stretches her acting chops as a football playing badass, but we're also blessed with early visual evidence of Jon Wurster's wicked dance moves*. What makes the song itself remarkable is that it would be a Top 10-15 Superchunk song if it ended at the 3 minute mark. But, it's the final 1:36 that takes it into all-timer territory. * Thanks to longtime Adios Lounge correspondent, bon vivant, and lover of musical theater, Bill Struven. He notes that Wurster's good foot is first on display at the 2:18 mark of the "Mower" video, which predates "The First Part" by two years. That's quality sleuthing ... and a clear cut case of the OCD.
The opening 2:58 ... the first part of "The First Part," if you will ... is the classic Superchunk sound, part of a continuum that connects older songs like "Fishing" and "For Tension" with newbies like "Fractures In Plaster." Basically, any song that starts with F. Like so many great Mac songs, it starts with sweet riffage, McCaughan and Wilbur trading leads throughout, via multiple layered guitar parts.
Harmonically speaking, what makes this song work ... like so many Superchunk songs ... is that Mac's voice carries the melody up top, while Laura carries it down low, and in between are riffs and octave chords playing off the main melody. And of course, Wurster pushes the song forward with his usual deft drum stylings. But wait, there's more ...
The second part of "The First Part" encapsulates Superchunk's next level brilliance. The song repeatedly shape-shifts, multiple octave chords riding on top of each other, all variations on the main riff. Wurster then kicks it up a notch at the :49 mark, trading punches with the guitars until the song climaxes in a riffsplosion at 1:29, then fading out. Lesser bands of the era were shittingly obvious about their use of dynamics ... Hi Billy Corgan! ... but Superchunk lapped these assholes with deceptive, understated dynamics and sophistication.
Jon Wurster is a drum machine ... and I mean that in a good way
While Mac's songwriting is obviously the #1 reason behind Superchunk's formidable legacy, those great songs take off because Wurster mans the drum kit with sturdy wrists and an appropriate amount of busyness.
This is probably my 3rd or 4th favorite song on Here's Where The Strings Come In ... it's probably a minute too long ... but it perfectly showcases Wurster's value to the band. McCaughan knows he can go in about 40 different musical directions and Wurster will keep up with all of them. If there is a flaw in post-Strings Superchunk, it's that too many songs failed to take advantage of JW's drumming prowess. The singing and guitar sound on "Eastern Terminal" is classic Superchunk ... in some ways, it's this album's "First Part" ... but it's Wurster's Jerry Nolan/DJ Bonebrake tom rolls and subtle rhythmic accents that make this song special.
Wurster is also a hilarity machine
If he were to ever give up drumming because he was, say, hit by lightning while playing in chainmail, Wurster could still earn a healthy living as a combination game show host, Chris Elliott circa '89 character actor, and satellite radio juggernaut. His sense of humor is a nice counterpoint to the Chunk's serious thematic tones. In fact, there's a certain irony that Superchunk helped propel an indie rock semi-movement that took itself a little too seriously while simultaneously featuring one of the funniest motherfuckers in the biz. You've seen his dancing in numerous Superchunk short forms, he cracks wise in pretty much every interview he's ever given, and if you haven't already done so, check out the Cup Of Sand liner notes. But, I think his comedic faculties are most fully realized in his collaborations with Tom Scharpling. Wurster's turn as Ronald Thomas Clontle, "ultimate argument settler," on 1999's Rock, Rot & Rule album/book/weight loss video is positively Newhartian.
The best part of this social experiment are the callers, who ask the willfully oblivious "Clontle" a variety of questions about his research, and whose tone ranges from politely disagreeable to utterly apoplectic.
Laura f'in Ballance
She is impossibly adorable, totally punk rock, and along with Mac, a black belt pogo whisperer. And while she has called herself "the weak link" of Superchunk, it wouldn't be the same band without her. Bottom line: Laura rocks, fools. Learn it, know it, live it.
The embrace of the 7"
"Finally, it is not about the colored wax and the ltd. ed. It is about the adrenaline rush and the conceptual greatness of the 7" single. What can you do in three and a half minutes that will make us get up and put the needle in the groove time and again? The single must be a distillation of one's power, the most exciting slice of noise a person can cram between the lip of the disc and the edge of the label." --Mac McCaughan, 1991
That statement in the Tossing Seeds liner notes is as true now as it was 19 years ago. In fact, if there's a continuum between the band in 1989 and the band now, it's their consistent embrace of the single aesthetic: Say what you need to say in 3-4 minutes (or less) and get the fuck out.
If there actually is an "americana" genre, this should play during orientation. From 1959's Rio Bravo, this is American cinema and American music at its best.
I originally wrote this piece in April 2009 for Star Maker Machine. However, I think it deserves a revisit, in no small part because this really is a Sammy Hagar Weekend. There's the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival in San Francisco, the Matador at 21: Lost Weekend in Vegas, and dozens of glorious college football contests going on all over the country. I'm looking at you Alabama-Florida. As we speak, Americans in multiple time zones are guzzling down Hedonism Malt Liquor in 40 oz portions. And so we celebrate in song.
We're sittin' in the parking lot at Anaheim Stadium (pictured left).
Drinkin' beer
Smokin' pot
Snortin' coke
And then we drive ... drive over 55.
Cuz it's a Sammy Hagar weekend
Well, it's a big man's day.
[metalriffic solo]
[repeat chorus]
[descent into chaos > back-masking]
[Hagarification complete]
Bob Forrest, bird, Dix Denney w/coat ... prob late '80s
"Sammy Hagar Weekend" is autobiography, disguised as satire, and wrapped in parody. Bob Forrest wrote it partly about his experience at a September 1978 über-concert in Anaheim, California ("Summer Fest"), featuring Boston, Black Sabbath, Van Halen, and the titular Hagar. However, the song also functions as a satire of the Heavy Metal Parking Lot culture. The parody comes at the end of the song, when the Monster transforms into full-on heavy metal band, with pro gear, pro attitude, sweet licks, and slaytanic backward masking.
I also wanted to revisit this post because I think it reveals an interesting element to Bob's artistic process over the years. Namely, his conflicted (and evolving) relationship with Sammy Hagar. One of the benefits of being a Thelonious Monster live gig archivist is that I'm privy to multiple shows worth of banter. And if you've seen the Monster in action, you know that Bob's between-song banter is as much of the appeal as the actual setlist. So it is with "Hagar."
Interesting to see Bob's evolution from petulant smartass to, well, sober smartass. Sure, he still wishes death upon a douchebaggian industry figure ... in this case, Fred Durst ... but it's as if the finger is pointed as much at his younger self as it is Durst and the cruisin' and boozin' youngsters in the parking lot.
Finally, 22 years after "Sammy Hagar Weekend" was written, here's a picture Bob uploaded to his twitter account just a few weeks ago. I've included the caption exactly as written. I guess it's still a big man's day, only now it's for slightly different reasons. Enjoy the weekend, but please be safe.
Click on image to download the "Hype Radio" iPhone app
About The Adios Lounge
The Adios Lounge began in April 2008 when an old-school record collector came to terms with these new-school webs and tubes. The blog name comes from a Thelonious Monster song. If you don't know who that is, stick around and you'll find out. Some other faves include Sam Cooke, Clarence White, Grand Champeen, Superchunk, Doug Sahm, Uncle Tupelo, Funkadelic, Minutemen, Roger Miller, and Richard Pryor. But hey, enough of my yakkin'. Whaddaya say? Let's boogie.
Contact Me
Please direct any questions, complaints, offers of valuable cash prizes, and critical plaudits to Lance Davis at: pantsfucious@gmail.com.
Glossary bassist Bingham Barnes getting posterized
Glossary - Lonely Is A Town [Feral Fire CD] [Feral Fire MP3]
Micah Schnabel (of Two Cow Garage) - Jackson, Don't You Worry* [Sweet Saint Marie CD] [Sweet Saint Marie LP]
