Okay. I’ve been MIA for some time. I’d been entertaining the content of my returning blog entitled “Excuse my absence, I’ve been frolicking in the forest with some Feral Children,” but a very important event occurred while I was abroad, upsetting my plans. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Steven Page of Barenaked Ladies was caught snorting some cocaine in upstate New York. Now, as a hipster, I cannot rightly lecture Mr. Page on his alleged drug habit–cocaine habit, no less; but what hipster doesn’t love a little hypocritical irony? Thusly, I give Mr. Page a wag of my finger for being a bad role model to the children and a tip of my hat for bringing some rock star street cred to a band with a squeaky clean reputation tainted only by being barred from playing at Toronto City Hall; but, in all seriousness, as a fan of Steven, I hope that he finds the help he needs and gets himself back together for his kids, his bandmates and himself.
Now, cocaine is bad, folks, but my real outrage occurs over the content of a number of articles I’ve read about his arrest. It seems that it’s all some form of “Steven Page of Barenaked Ladies was arrested, blah blah blah, hit songs ‘One Week’ and ‘If I Had $1,000,000.’” This has prompted me to write my second installment in my infinity-part series: Rage Against the Mainstream Part II: Paul Loves the Ladies. Forgive the length; my haughty hipster rage has been incensed.
Barenaked Ladies have more than two songs. I know it’s hard to believe. The Chinese chicken guys. The lotto song guys. You don’t know how these names pain my heart to hear. Today, I will put all my hipster cred on the line and declare my love of the Ladies for all the blogosphere to see! The Ladies’ career has spanned 16 years, and although they are best known for their novelty pop songs *seethes with rage*, they deserve to be known for their dedication to musicianship and clever songwriting.
Back in the day, meaning 1992, they released their first real album, the pepsi-colored-album-covered Gordon. It contains some of the best songwriting of their career, including relatively unknown gems like “Wrap Your Arms Around Me,” “What A Good Boy,” “Blame It On Me,” and “The Flag.” In addition to excellent lyrics, these feature some classic Barenaked harmonies. One also has to mention the better-known, and rightly so, “Brian Wilson.” It’s a brilliant must-listen, as is Gordon in general.
The 1994 Maybe You Should Drive came during the beginning of a troubling time for the band, and thus yielded a slightly more disjointed effort. It’s not their best, but the songwriting still shines on the disc, providing classics like “Jane,” “A,” “Am I the Only One?,” and “The Great Provider.” One of the album’s more popular tracks, “Alternative Girlfriend,” should make its way into every hipster’s musical library. It’s a great song and the video’s a clever shot at the 90’s alternative scene that was sprawling further into the obscure and bizarre for the sake of the obscure and bizarre.
In 1996, Born on a Pirate Ship was released during a continuation of the tumult within the band, between personal struggles, creative disagreements and the departure of their original pianist and percussionist Andy Creegan. It’s harsher than you would expect from the poppy-ness of their later work, including the startling angst of “Just A Toy” and “I Live With It Every Day.” It also has two of the best Barenaked tracks you’ve probably never heard: “When I Fall,” Ed’s surprisingly evocative ballad to a high-rise window washer afraid of heights, and the brooding “Break Your Heart,” which in addition to breaking your heart as you listen, is hands down Steve’s most impressive and moving vocal performance.
Do we really need to go over what came next? Stunt. I would say that says it all, but buried within the hits is the lesser-known “Told You So.” Just listen to it and love it. That’s all I can say.
And after Stunt came the almost as popular Maroon which has an equal lack of need to be covered here– aside from my command that you listen to “Baby Seat.” If you hipsters are wary, it namedrops Kerouac. Go crazy, kids.
After three years of silence, Everything to Everyone, a title playing on the pressure on the band to please everyone again following the success of the last two albums. “If I check the irony/Would everybody cheer me?” Robertson asks in “Testing 1, 2, 3″ (hipsters certainly would not cheer, unless in irony). Some call it unbalanced. Okay, maybe. Others called it underwhelming, but I turn my haughty hipster rage upon them and proclaim this album simply more mature. At times. There is no lack of smart wordplay, but for the best I suggest the dramatic “Next Time,” the chilling “War On Drugs” and the wittily metaphorical ode to people who suck more than they appear to, “Aluminum.”
And so we come to the most recent effort aside from their children’s album, Snacktime! I am somewhat apathetic (surprise!) towards Barenaked Ladies Are Me(n). I pine for the days of Gordon, yet embrace the fact that the Ladies are getting old and changing their tune a bit–but are 29 tracks really necessary? I weed through and suggest: “One And Only,” “Half A Heart,” and the two politically driven tracks, “Maybe You’re Right” and “Take It Back.” Also, “The New Sad” is a fitting ending to an album dealing with the band’s more mature troubles. Barenaked Ladies are not 20 anymore. Sorry.
This is where it ends (SEE: TITLE REFERENCE). Finally. I can see you all breathing a collective sigh of relief. I hope I have single handedly opened up a whole new world of Barenaked Ladies to you that the rest of the world chooses to ignore. I wear my love for the Ladies with pride on my sleeve, and I hope your image of my elite hipster scorn has not been damaged by my ardor for their clean, genuine, smart-ass brand of rock/pop/folk. If it has, well, cling to the fact that they’re are an indie band now–and that one of them just got arrested. That has to count for something.
Hailing from Chicago, my favorite scene for indie music (it provided the world with the beauty that is Andrew Bird, after all), The Sea and Cake is yet another clean and simple indie pop rock band. Around since the early 90’s, a melting pot of influences marks their earlier work, evocative of a sort of more subdued, Vampire Weekend-esque sound–minus the fact that I don’t like them. Sue me. Sufjan Stevens doesn’t like them either. I’m not alone. No one gives a fuck about your Oxford Comma, Vampire Weekend. Sorry.
