The Meadowlands November 1, 2006
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The Wrens’ The Meadowlands 
It’s been so long
since you’ve heard from me
got a wife and kid
that I never see
and I’m nowhere near
what I dreamed I’d be
I can’t believe
what life has done to me
Those are the lyrics in their entirety of the album’s first track, the brief ”the house that guilt built” (all track titles are in lowercase on the album), and they perfectly set the tone for the remainder of the album. There’s always a tendency to scoff at such “woe-is-me” type lyrics, but this is not the stuff of teenager angst. Part of the album’s charm lies in the raw emotion the band has clearly put into the record. It’s the sound of individuals with their backs against the wall and the adversity they’ve faced has fed their creativity. The second song,”happy,” builds and builds and builds to a rousing celebration of self-pity and hope. It’s a nearly epic beginning, promising, and ultimately delivering, great things.
I find the next song, “she sends kisses,” a little subpar in comparison to the rest of the album and probably listen to it less than any of the other full length tracks. All the themes explored throughout the album are still there, but the keyboard-heavy music is a little too slow to fully win me over, although the lyrics are especially strong and almost painfully intimate.
“this boy is exhausted” is probably the most accessible track found on The Meadowlands. Nevertheless, the subject matter, as with the rest of the album, is challenging and filled with a regret that rings true. It conjures up ideas of what young men are supposed to do after college, when they’ve seemingly got their whole lives ahead of them but actually have no clue what their future should be. It’s a powerful song that shouldn’t be dismissed because of its poppy, upbeat tempo. The first-person difficulties in trying to find success in music at an advanced age are explored with poignancy.
The album’s fifth track “hopeless” is a cathartic and angry tribute to self-pity that will resonate with anyone struggling to figure out what the next step should be in life (which is most of us at one point or another). It centers around a relationship that’s past the point of salvaging and the bitter aftermath of moving on. “faster gun” bristles with a poppy, fast-paced rhythm that, like “this boy is exhausted,” might disguise the fear and despair found in the lyrics, which are nearly indecipherable aside from the title and mostly absent in the otherwise helpful liner notes. In fact, The Meadowlands can be a deceptively upbeat record at times and fails to prepare the listener for the emotional weight found in both the uptempo and the slower songs.
The seventh track, “thirteen grand,” is another fine little ode to the end of a relationship, even if its slow, dreamy pace doesn’t strike me as much as other songs on the album.
“boys, you won’t” is one of my personal favorite tracks on the album. The song starts with a familiar melancholy and evolves into a defiant, hopeful chorus as inspiring as anything on the album. The song’s lyrics, however, also welcome an interpretation of a narrator in denial, who can’t face the reality of a break-up. ”ex-girl collection,” the ninth song, continues the theme of regret that permeates throughout the album. I always come back to the line “she pours herself a ‘don’t ask’ gin” and its strong imagery each time I think of the song. It’s lyrically the strongest track on The Meadowlands and almost painfully personal like reading a stranger’s innermost, unfiltered thoughts. Curiously, the song ends with a televangelist preaching about Jesus.
“per second second” (a physics reference to the acceleration of gravity) is another fast-paced song, but much lighter in tone than the other rockers. The audio is muddled more on this track than most of the album, but the music is raw and the song rewards repeat listens to try and figure out what words the singer is using. It’s a strange one and ends abruptly, leading into the crunchy guitars of “everyone chooses sides,” a great song with opaque lyrics.
The penultimate track “13 months in 6 minutes” revisits the ethereal earlier tracks and actually runs closer to 7 minutes including the outro which sounds like it belongs with a completely different song yet still works. The final song is a short, drunken rendition called ”this is not what you had planned” on piano. It’s mostly a curiosity and probably should be looked at as akin to a hidden track instead of a whole song.
The great thing about The Meadowlands is that, despite its themes of loneliness and uncertainty, it’s not a depressing album. Instead, there’s a great deal of hope to be found amidst the lyrics and music that prevent a sense of wallowing in one’s own unhappiness. Even if there’s a significant amount of angst and sadness wandering around, this isn’t emo, “lock-yourself-in-your-bedroom-and-cry” music. Instead, The Wrens give the listener a much deeper, mature sense of longing for something seemingly out of reach without wanting to quit the journey.
The Meadowlands is probably one of the absolute best records that almost no one has heard (just under 35,000 copies sold). It did receive some acclaim when the internet music site pitchfork gave it a glowing review and placed it quite high on its year-end list of best albums in 2003. If you’re like me, however, and could care less about the sniveling nitwits at that particular website then don’t let their laudatory review turn you off from such a brilliant album. The Wrens’ accomplishments can stand on their own and this record is a masterpiece once you let the music and lyrics meld after a few plays. Some songs, such as “this boy is exhausted” and “faster gun” are poppy enough to appeal after hearing them once or twice, but the whole album really coalesces upon subsequent listens.
I also have to mention how wonderful my one and only experience seeing The Wrens live was and how hesitant I am to see them again for fear of somehow devaluing that performance. I had the good fortune of seeing them in March of 2004 in New York City at a small club that holds roughly 150 people. A then-unknown band named The Arcade Fire opened up the show and they certainly lived up to the reputation they’ve gained since then. Still, however, The Wrens were the star attraction and earned their modest headliner title by giving an energetic, blistering performance that really made the songs on The Meadowlands feel alive and vibrant. I can’t imagine anyone in the crowd who had heard their album feeling less than satisfied, if not mesmerized, by The Wrens’ powerful exhibition.
The Meadowlands is the rare album that breaks the fourth wall and includes songs about the band and its members, even specifically citing members and the band name in the lyrics (with frequent mention of specific towns in New Jersey). It’s probably the only kind of album The Wrens could honestly make at that point in their lives/careers. Spectators on the outside often forget that there are hundreds of bands who never achieve success or financial stability and The Wrens, with The Meadowlands, remind us that dreams are difficult to achieve. This is an album that seeps into your pores. No matter how long I go between listens, each time I hear these songs they affect me and they’re beautiful.
No Direction Home August 28, 2006
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With the new release of Bob Dylan’s first studio album in five years, I was inspired to finally watch Martin Scorsese’s nearly 3 1/2 hour documentary on the musical icon. No Direction Home
Originally shown on the PBS program “American Masters” in 2005, No Direction Home is divided into two parts with the first a mostly chronological account of Dylan’s early days as a folk musician in lower Manhattan’s Greenwich Village and the large influence Woody Guthrie had on him. After reading “Chronicles,” it was nice to see interviews here with some of the people Dylan talks about in the book such as Dave Van Ronk, another folk musician whom Dylan befriended and whose arrangement of “House of the Rising Sun” Dylan lifted for his first album. The second part is even more fascinating than the first and focuses on Dylan’s rising popularity and subsequent backlash in the folk community for using electric guitar in his live performances and studio recordings.
Particularly enjoyable, in addition to the frequent musical performances, are the interviews with Dylan himself and, later on in the film, Joan Baez, who took Dylan out on the road in the United States with her but was disappointed when he neglected to offer her the same luxury in the UK. Everything Dylan says is worth listening to, even if it’s difficult to know how sincere some of it is. We’ve so often seen the older Dylan’s face in magazines and on television, but rarely have we heard him speak aside from a recent “60 Minutes” interview where he had to share face time with interviewer Ed Bradley. The more direct approach Scorsese uses here is highly effective and these interviews alone would make the documentary worthwhile. Other interviewees provide a good basis for recognizing Dylan’s place in our cultural history and the archival interviews in which Dylan playfully evades the media’s questions are a nice treat.
If the documentary has a significant weakness, it’s that the viewer remains in the dark about the personal and private side of Bob Dylan. Dylan is certainly one of, if not, the most enigmatic entertainers of the 20th century. I can’t fault him for this, but it’s frustrating to watch a documentary of this magnitude and length and then understand its subject even less than before it started. While we frequently hear praise of Dylan’s genius and vision, there’s a conspicuous lack of any dissenting or opposing voice. I would have liked to have seen more adversarial discussion about the switch to electric guitar and a deeper exploration of the betrayal that the folk musicians and fans, the ones who had built Dylan up from his days at Cafe Wha?, felt. I didn’t want to hear from those who just had an axe to grind against him, but it would have been nice to see interviews with more of the people from Part 1 concerning the electric backlash.
Regardless of how much light is (or isn’t) shed on Dylan the man, Scorsese’s film manages to ably build on Dylan the myth. If you have any interest in Dylan’s music, watching No Direction Home is like watching highlight reels of your favorite sports team’s greatest triumphs. It’s great fun and compelling entertainment. I never realized how, for lack of a better word, “cool” Dylan was until I saw him at the 1966 concert depicted here. No longer looking like the pixieish young boy he was earlier in the decade, the bushy-haired and stylishly dressed Dylan on display in the UK was a mature musician so confident in his actions as to defiantly ignore the boos and cries of “Judas” before letting loose with his electric set of songs.
Despite any faults, though, No Direction Home is never less than engrossing. Part 2, in particular, is as captivating as any music documentary ever made and serves as a fascinating look at Dylan’s transformation into a rock star. I would imagine that Scorsese’s film will, deservedly, serve as the definitive documentary work on Bob Dylan and a superb entry point into the man’s music. Along with its unofficial companion piece, Dylan’s Chronicles book, these two works may be the closest we ever get to understanding the enigmatic musician.
Binaural March 19, 2006
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Released in May of 2000, Pearl Jam’s Binaural
The album starts out with a couple of speedy bursts of frenetic energy in the songs “Breakerfall” and “Gods’ Dice.” Despite being two of the weaker songs on the album, both tracks are highly listenable and hold up after repeated spins. The latter, written by bassist Jeff Ament, is particularly interesting lyrically and improves when played live. Lead singer Eddie Vedder’s maniacal primate laugh on the song has been a highlight of some of the live versions (e.g. Nashville ‘03). The album’s third track “Evacuation” was written by drummer Matt Cameron who made his studio debut here as a band member. While probably my least favorite song on Binaural, “Evacuation” has managed to grow on me over the years. I’m still not crazy about the song title being repeated throughout, but the rest of what’s going on is great.
Track number four is “Light Years,” a sweet, but almost maudlin ode to a departed friend. The repeated chorus is catchy but has never struck me as very interesting. I know some fans love this song, but it’s not a personal favorite. The remainder of the album is what sets Binaural apart and elevates it to underrated classic status. “Nothing As It Seems” was the lead single and never really caught on. That’s no big surprise, however, given the song’s length at over five minutes and the fact that it sounds like nothing that was on the radio at the time. Not a ballad, anthem, or straight rocker, “Nothing As It Seems” puts the listener in a dreamlike state of strong lyrics (written by Ament) and hypnotic vocals, mixed with both Mike McCready’s shredding electric guitar and Stone Gossard’s haunting acoustic contribution. It’s a very strong effort, but an ill-chosen selection for a first single.
Binaural also followed on the heels of “Last Kiss,” a charity single that improbably became the band’s biggest radio success. While not as catchy or radio friendly as “Last Kiss,” the sixth track on Binaural, “Thin Air” seems like a perfect fit for mass enjoyment yet was never released as a single. Written by guitarist Stone Gossard, “Thin Air” is a love song that manages to refrain from being overly sentimental or gushingly saccharine. It’s a testament to maintaining faithfulness in a relationship and loving your partner and the song is truly beautiful. In fact, it may be the prettiest love song in Pearl Jam’s ever-growing catalog. That it was not a “Top-40 smash” remains somewhat of a mystery. There are many possibilities such as the band’s unwillingness to continue in the “Last Kiss” direction or perhaps they didn’t desire another radio hit at the time, as has seemingly been the case throughout their career.
During the fall 2005 Canadian tour, Vedder commented that “Insignificance,” the seventh track on Binaural, was written about the Washington-based company Boeing, who make planes that are used by the military in bombing raids. Workers seeking an honest paycheck go to the Boeing factory everyday to make these planes that will be used to kill hundreds of people. Aside from the song’s bold and thoughtful message, “Insignificance” is also an impressive listen from a musical standpoint. It’s a great live song and the band tends to play it more frequently than almost any other on this album. Skipping ahead to track nine, “Grievance” works as a companion piece to “Insignificance.” These two are probably the most overtly political or social songs on the album, as well as being the two songs most easily categorized as traditional Pearl Jam “rock” songs. “Grievance,” though, is clearly concerned with the societal trade-offs we make in the name of technology. “For every tool they lend us a loss of independence,” Vedder sings. I really love this line and not just because it has a clever rhyme in it. It represents my own personal views and it rings true. However, as always with Pearl Jam, strong lyrics need an equally strong musical complement and “Grievance” delivers that also. Both “Insignificance” and “Grievance” were written by Vedder and his anger becomes contagious when you hear the songs. Both songs can be very inspiring to careful listeners and it’s interesting to observe how the years have allowed Vedder to channel his anger and frustration from the angst-ridden songs of Ten and Vs. to the more mature lyrics found on Binaural.
“Of the Girl” and “Rival,” tracks eight and ten, respectively, were both written by Stone Gossard. The former has seemingly simple lyrics about a man approaching middle age who can’t shake thoughts of a past love. The brilliance of the song, though, is the haunting music that accompanies the lyrics. It weaves a mysterious and tortured web that serves as a perfect reminder of Pearl Jam’s almost unmatched versatility. It probably should have been the album’s first song and is a frequent opener at the band’s concerts. Like a second glass of wine, “Of the Girl” has an uncanny knack for setting just the right mood. “Rival,” in contrast, begins with a growling dog and continues by giving the listener an appropriate level of uneasiness given the song’s subject matter. Parenthetically titled “Growing Up Gay in Littleton,” the song is written from the point of view of the troubled and murderous high school students who killed many of their teachers and classmates at Columbine High School in April 1999. Surprisingly, “Rival” was never controversial or even really mentioned by media outside of album reviews. Regardless, it’s a fascinating song whether you listen carefully to the lyrics or simply take it as just another track on the album. Leaving the attentive listener jarred and unable to relax, “Rival” is an essential companion to the band’s well-known “Jeremy” from its first album, Ten.
The strongest track on Binaural is its eleventh, the beautiful “Sleight of Hand.” Combining Vedder’s lyrics and Ament’s music, the song is a masterpiece of unfulfilled hopes and dreams. It asks what can we do when we find ourselves stuck in a monotonous life that our younger selves never would have wanted. Is it possible to really break away and start anew? “Sleight of Hand” is bathed in lush and dreamlike sounds that give the listener a perfect sense of how it feels to yearn for a different, more exciting life. In a lot of ways, it’s unlike anything the band has done before or since. Existential themes may be explored in other songs in Pearl Jam’s catalog, but never with the poignancy or longing found in “Sleight of Hand.”
The penultimate track consists of Eddie Vedder and a ukulele. Musically, “Soon Forget” is Vedder’s homage to his hero Pete Townshend’s song “Blue, Red and Grey.” Lyrically, it lambastes the rich and materialistic who try to hide behind their wealth in hopes of finding happiness. The song is an interesting departure that Vedder tends to butcher whenever played live. Butcher may be too strong of a word, but he frequently struggles to finish it. Regardless, I can’t fault the band for including the song because it has its heart in the right place, even if I still have trouble keeping a straight face when listening to Vedder sing the lines “he’s lying dead clutching Benjamins.” There’s also an interesting parallel here to The Great Gatsby, intentional or not, with references to a mechanic, a giant house and townsfolk, and, finally, the death of the song’s subject.
The album concludes with “Parting Ways,” a song about a couple who have drifted apart from each other and can see their futures will probably not be spent together. It’s impossible not to inject a little bit of Vedder’s personal life into the song’s theme since his marriage ended shortly afterwards. The song itself is a moody, well-done piece of music. In my mind, it doesn’t hold up to repeated listens as much as other songs on the album. I hear the crashing sounds in the song and think of the two people in a relationship crashing into one another with each argument. That’s not something I like to revisit, but it’s not reflective on the song’s merits which are extensive. Several seconds of dead air follow “Parting Ways” and lead to audio of typewriter keys being struck. This has been dubbed “Writer’s Block” and it creeps me out, to be honest. I would not recommend falling asleeep to the album and having the eerie sounds and beeps of the typewriter welcome you back to the land of the coherent.
The Binaural story does not end here, however. Somewhere around late 2001-early 2002, three songs that had been left off the album mysteriously leaked onto the internet. Maybe even more mysterious, though, is their absence from Binaural given the strength of the songs. “Sad,” “Fatal,” and “Education” eventually showed up on the B-sides album Lost Dogs, released in November 2003. Among the Pearl Jam fan community, “Sad” is especially well-regarded. Originally titled “Letter to the Dead,” the song is about a man having difficulty accepting his lover’s death. The band has begun performing the song live and it’s a terrific addition. “Fatal” was penned by Gossard and is a beautiful acoustic number that I can’t claim to fully understand. I know that I like it tremendously, but I’m not sure what it’s about or what “the answers are fatal” means. The almost equally enigmatic “Education,” written by Vedder, is an interesting song that seems to possibly be about the state of the world and the country and whether personal opinions and beliefs are justified or meaningful. All in all, these three songs are superb and it seems odd they didn’t make it onto Binaural.
It should be noted that Binaural takes its name from the type of recording process used which allows the careful listener an enhanced audio experience when using headphones, especially ones of higher quality. I don’t consider myself an audiophile so that is the extent of my knowledge. It’s interesting that Pearl Jam chose Tchad Blake to produce this album, yet they have not worked with him again on their subsequent projects. It is unclear whether the band was unhappy with his production or just feel more comfortable with Adam Kasper and Brendan O’Brien, who have produced the bulk of their catalog.
Nearly six years since its release, Binaural has aged extremely well. The sounds and emotions both on the surface and buried amidst the music reward the listener with each spin. One of Pearl Jam’s greatest strengths is their collective talent showcased throughout the album that allows for each band member’s figurative voice to be heard. Instead of Eddie Vedder writing each song and having Pearl Jam serve as his mouthpiece, each individual musician contributes important and interesting pieces for their albums. This allows the band to consistently grow and evolve while continuing to make great, thought-provoking albums.
