Reviewing the Essential

Album Review (kinda):
Ocean Rain by Echo and the Bunnymen

By Eric, age 31 (of XUK and Get Set Go)

Remember the good old days when artistic periods used to last, I dunno, sixty or seventy years? Remember sitting on the porch with Aloysius one midsummer’s eve, listening to Mozart, drinking mai tais, and Aloysius says “Isn’t it nice to be in the Classical Period?” And then you say “Yeah, but that Romantic Period’s due in another ten or twelve years, so watch out for that new kid Beethoven. He’s really gonna shake things up.” And then Aloysius nods serenely and pees on a nearby peasant.

Well, maybe that wasn’t how it really happened. But here’s my problem: All bands are required by law to have myspace pages, and they get to pick three genre descriptors. And there are a lot of choices. So if you spend a few minutes looking around myspace, you’ll no doubt run across Hawaiian/Grindcore/Disco House bands, and Minimalist/Nu-Jazz/Post-Punk bands, and Crunk/Punk/Funk bands, and any of the tens of thousands of other possible combinations, none of which really mean anything. This is what reading the average music review is like for me.

It seems that every week or so, somebody somewhere throws out another few names for subgenres of popular (and unpopular) music. People who review music professionally are required to keep up with all these new names for things that aren’t really new. Some of ‘em, I think, really delight in throwing these terms around—there’s a kind of giddy elitism in talking about the emerging post-post-pre-hardcore neo-grunge glamcore movement with the almost absolute certainty that your audience won’t know what the hell you’re talking about. It’s probably equally satisfying to watch some of your audience scramble around pretending they know what you’re talking about.

But none of this is the tiniest bit informative. It’s designed to compartmentalize and sell records. People like what’s familiar, so if somebody who likes Fusion/Rastabilly/Breakbeat Band A is browsing itunes and happens upon an album by Fusion/Rastabilly/Breakbeat Band B, maybe they’ll buy it. I really hope I live to see somebody walk into Sam Goody in search of a Blues/Jazz/Trip-Hop album, only to be sent by the helpful staff to the Trip-Hop/Jazz/Blues section by mistake. Can you imagine the embarrassment? Can you imagine the TOTAL CHAOS that will result when people who think they’re listening to Screamo/Alt-Country suddenly realize they’re listening to Alt-Country/Screamo? Mass hysteria! By extension, a lot of music reviewers I’ve seen are only capable of describing things by referring to other musicians. I die a little every time I read about somebody’s “blistering Mick Ronsonesque leads,” or “organ-pulping Colin Moulding-style basslines,” or “projectile-vomit-inducing Geddy Lee vocals.” Hey, namedroppers! How ‘bout just thinking of an adjective or two and not trying to remind me how many bands you’re familiar with?

My point, if I’ve been a little too subtle, is that I’m not a big fan of music critics. But maybe that’s just because my viola has been called a “violin” or a “fiddle” in more reviews than I can count (four). You have no idea what kind of damage that can do to a guy.

Consequently, I’m gonna go about this album review a little differently. I’m just gonna tell you what I like, tell you I like this record, and let you listen to it or not listen to it at your own convenience. Deal? Deal. Ocean Rain by Echo and the Bunnymen is one of my favorite albums of all time. It has some great string writing (always a plus for me), some interesting guitar parts, and some nice dramatic singing with kind of obscure lyrics. And no love songs, really. I often refer to “The Killing Moon” as my favorite song of all time, and I think the title song (that’s “Ocean Rain,” for those of you not really paying attention) is the best example in the rock and roll genre of a constant build a la Ravel’s Bolero…

Oh, hell, now I’m doing it, aren’t I?

Anyway, some of my favorite musicians are the Beatles, David Bowie, Pulp, XTC, Elliott Smith, and Robynn Hitchcock. If you’re at all like me, and you haven’t ever heard Ocean Rain, you should listen to it. If you don’t like it, I’ll give you your money back.

Author’s note: I will absolutely not give you your money back. That’s the price you pay for listening to me. Fifteen dollars. Ten used.