New Order - Technique (1989)

Dan:

I took some time to warm up to New Order, beginning with Low Life. I sampled the early albums via the useful compilation, Substance, but disliked much of what I heard from the earlier albums. The later albums were less dense and one song in particular, "True Faith," was irresistible. Steve's younger sister loved that song and so did I. She wondered how I could like it since I didn't have much in the way of dance / beat / synth music in my collection. At the time, I didn't really have an answer, but now I do. Amy, this post is for you!

The follow up to Low Life, Brotherhood, was an admitted disaster due to conflicts within the band. Thankfully, Technique arrived near the end of the decade with a more coherent sound. It appeared that the band had resolved their stylistic differences and settled on synth-based songs with catchy hooks and unique lyrics. Technique charted to the top in the UK, thus reinforcing the stylistic choice for their next major album, Republic (1993). 

The song titles on Technique and other New Order albums don't offer many clues about the lyrics. Although I can remember each song on the album, I can never remember the titles. "Fine Time," "Run," and "Love Less" are typical examples. So I don't bother associating songs with titles; it makes no practical difference because I like all of the songs equally. I just listen and enjoy. 

The lyrics are memorable, and the melodies and rhythms are perfect for the band. None of them tell very deep stories, unlike some of the earlier songs (e.g., "1963," which was about a murder). There are undercurrents of self-deprecation and heartbreak but not enough to make Technique gloomy or morose. 

In terms of musicianship, this era of New Order was outstanding. They found a way to use electronic instruments, including "drums" to make actual music that supports the fine vocals. I don't know enough about the band to explain how they get around the limitations of synthesizers and drum machines; I just know that it works beautifully on the four New Order albums I have, among which Technique is the best.

Steve:

Although I had become a big fan of New Order with the Low Life album (reviewed elsewhere on this blog) and that interest had continued through Brotherhood, by the time of Technique I was in college and exploring other things (including a full immersion in classic prog). I never purchased a copy of Technique at the time, but Dan had. When I was home for a break from school, he played it, and track 1 ("Fine Time") scared me off at first - it was thoroughly electronic, and clearly in the "house music" genre which was anathema to me at the time. Although I listened to other tracks besides "Fine Time," it colored my feelings about the album for a long time, and it was many years before I finally bought my own copy.

As I've learned since, the majority of Technique continues in the same vein as Low Life and Brotherhood, and even improves upon it in terms of the easy flow of melodies and the band's full command of their instrumental arsenal. I'm even able to look past my earlier fear of electronic dance music (that's what "Blue Monday" was, after all) and appreciate the melodies and infectious songcraft that the band had developed by this time in their career.

The band's history since Technique has been riddled with stops and starts, as well as intra-band disagreements and eventually the departure of bassist Peter Hook. Hook took to touring on his own, bringing the classic sounds of both Joy Division and New Order to the stage. Technique sounds today like the last time the full band was on the same page, collaborating creatively, and having a Fine Time with it.

The Cure - Disintegration (1989)

Steve:

The Cure were one of many bands I first heard while working at Spec's Records in the summer of 1985. Their new album was The Head on the Door, and I was hooked by the band's expert blend of pop-friendly hooks, clever and tasteful arrangements, and most notably, a propensity for juxtaposing light and dark moods. This is a band that had produced both the gothic depression opus Pornography and the giddy singalong single "The Lovecats". On The Head on the Door, the two extremes blended seamlessly - the catchy pop single "Close to Me" reveals, on closer investigation, a protagonist becoming physically sick at the anticipation of meeting up with his loved one, despite the fact that he's "waited hours for this". Is it just nervousness? Guilt? Something worse? Let the listener decide.

By 1989, The Cure had raised their bar so high that I expected big things from them, and when Disintegration was released, the band had indeed taken things to a new level. I remember hearing the single "Fascination Street" prior to the album's release, and it sounded almost too good to be true - a driving bass line, layers of guitars and keyboards gradually building to a climax even before the vocals enter. Indeed, the vocal section almost serves as a coda to the instrumental introduction.  

To no one's surprise, the album turned out to be 72 minutes long; their prior album (Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me, 1987) had been double-album length and The Cure were definitely on a roll. Disintegration doesn't sound like Kiss Me at all, however; while Kiss Me had a scattershot diversity of styles, Disintegration sustained a dark mood for most of the program. This gave fans of their "goth" persona reason to celebrate. Rather than creating a self-indulgent bore-fest, however, The Cure played to one of its many strengths: the ability to gradually build towering edifices of overlapping sounds and melodies from simple structures. Most songs begin with a simple idea, keep it interesting by adding related ideas and counter melodies, and finish the picture with Robert Smith's familiar lyrical style and voice. Looks easy on staff paper, but it takes skilled craftsmen like Smith and The Cure to make it sound epic.

Disintegration was released while I was a sophomore in college, not long after Sonic Youth released their landmark Daydream Nation album in 1988, making 1988-89 a big school year for me musically. It was also the first year after I decided not to pursue baseball at the collegiate level anymore, freeing up time to pursue music, both listening with friends and playing in the school's jazz ensemble. Although I don't have many memories of listening to Disintegration with my college friends, anyone familiar with the album knew it had staying power and would be remembered as a high-water mark of 80s art rock. 

Dan:

By 1989, practically all the rock I heard originated from Steve's collection. Bands like Talking Heads, New Order, Camper Van Beethoven, Hawkwind, Phish, and The Cure were among them. I had the luxury of being selective, choosing the best from these bands while rarely acquiring more than one or two albums from each (the rare exception being Phish). 

Disintegration was my first foray into what was called angst rock, which refers to a genre in which horribly distressed singers cry their proverbial eyes out against a backdrop of droning, depressing music. But there was something so desperate about The Cure's angst on Disintegration that captivated me. I do like dark topics and swelling thick music with lots of bass, and The Cure had tons of it all.

The album covers a panorama of paranoia (howzat for alliteration?) but it's an enjoyable listen. I did buy the LP at some point, then traded it in when I felt I shouldn't be caught listening to it at my age, then reacquired a CD copy for a couple of bucks at a garage sale (presumably placed there by someone else who didn't want to be caught with a copy in his possession). I can't say it's in heavy rotation, and it's not much of a car trip album, but it's available when I want it.

My favorite tracks are "Pictures of You," "Fascination Street," and "Prayers for Rain." The desperation expressed on all the tracks seems endless, but it's really not much different from some of Frank Sinatra's 1950-60s albums, such as Only the Lonely, In the Wee Small Hours, Where Are You? and No One Cares. People who want music to cheer themselves up should stay away from these albums and Disintegration. 

We also rented a VHS tape of The Cure in concert at Red Rocks Amphitheater. It was pretty cool, as I recall. That concert and the Disintegration album are my two main experiences with The Cure, aside from hearing a few songs like "Killing an Arab," which did not appeal to me. That's when I'm glad to have the luxury of being selective.

Postscript: I can't believe I drew a comparison between The Cure and Frank Sinatra. 

Camper Van Beethoven - Key Lime Pie (1989)

Dan:

As the 80s came to a close, I realized that more often than not, Steve was telling me about rock bands and albums that I had never heard of. This reciprocity is the theme of our entire blog as we passed through different periods of discovery. Steve would tell me facts about the bands, such as Camper Van Beethoven was a California band that eventually spun off into the Monks of Doom and Cracker. I was cautious when it came to sampling indie college bands, but sometimes I ended up with some great discoveries like Key Lime Pie, which was one of CVB's later albums and the only one I have spent much time with. 

I love the opening songs on side 1 of Key Lime Pie. After a brief and somewhat dissonant instrumental intro featuring violin, the band rocks into "Jack Ruby," named for the infamous Dallas nightclub owner who shot Lee Harvey Oswald in 1963. Certainly an odd choice but the song seems to mock our fascination with evil historical characters and their outlandish crimes. I love the tension and dynamics of this track.

"Jack Ruby" is followed by another unusual choice, "Sweethearts," one of my favorite rock songs. It's got an old-timey lilt to it and some mean slide guitar licks. The song nostalgically references an episode set in 1949 about an air squadron on a bombing mission over China, obviously another oddity to ponder. The song title refers to pilots' practices of painting their sweethearts' names near the cockpits of their aircraft.

Angels' wings are icing over

McDonnell Douglas olive drab

They bear the names of our sweethearts

And the captain smiles, as we crash

The next verse takes a swipe at former President Reagan: 

'Cause in the mind of Ronald Reagan

Wheels they turn and gears they grind

Buildings collapse in slow motion

And trains collide, everything is fine

Everything is fine

Everything is fine

My head conjures images of the B-movies following World War II - "sitting at the fountain at the five and dime" - where I literally spent some quality time as a boy.

Then comes "When I Win the Lottery," which is sung by a tough troublemaker living on the margin of society who gives no respect to flag-waving "Mr. Red White & Blue." Whatever he earns, he spends on lottery tickets. When he wins, or so he fantasizes, he'll buy the girls on his block color TVs and French perfume. And while it may seem unfair for such a scoundrel to win the lottery instead of more deserving pious citizens, our protagonist argues:

When the end comes to this old world

The righteous will cry and the rest will curl up

And God won't take the time to sort your asses from mine.

Interesting philosophical stance, eh?

Steve:

Easily my favorite Camper Van Beethoven album, Key Lime Pie was also the band's last album before breaking up (they reformed for a couple of reunion albums years later), making a good case for knowing the right time to quit. The band had already shown signs to splintering apart - the lead guitarist, bassist and drummer had already formed their own side project Monks of Doom (amazing band, by the way), and Jonathan Segel (violin, guitar) had left the band a couple of years before. Following CVB's well-received major label debut, Our Beloved Revolutionary Sweetheart (1987), Segel put out a surprisingly proggy solo double concept album, Storytelling, on Camper's label.  

At the risk of sounding hyperbolic, this is Camper Van Beethoven's Abbey Road. Made at the end of their career, with an uneasy peace maintained within the band about to break up, in order to produce a work that stands apart in their discography for a maturity, clarity and power unlike any of their prior work. When the slide guitar solos enter on "Jack Ruby", piling on top of all the tension that had built up in the track thus far, it's like Camper have entered a new dimension with their music. Say what you will about major-label sellouts, sometimes a major-label budget can do wonders if used wisely. The band was rewarded for its efforts with a #1 hit on Billboard's Modern Rock Track chart for their cover of the old Status Quo song "Pictures of Matchstick Men", which has the same great, thick sound typical of the rest of the album.

Dan already spoke in some detail about two of my favorite tracks, "Sweethearts" (oh my.. those guitars) and "When I Win the Lottery". Another favorite track of mine, hiding in the middle of side 2, is "The Humid Press of Days". This song proceeds at a plodding, almost comical (mocking?) pace implying a weary trudge through the mud, with rising guitar arpeggios on weird chords signifying rising tension. The lyrics seem to question the value of drug abuse (or is it stardom?):

What did it mean to fly?

A tremor in your soul

To resist the dull insistence of gravity

This urge to "fly" is followed by a near-catatonic "down" period, sung in a quiet, nearly whispered bridge:

Now afternoons you seldom move

Grounded to a little bit of earth

And after all, time barely crawls

Unoccupied, between each breath it sticks

I first encountered Key Lime Pie as it sat on the racks in my college's student-run radio station, which had a brief, unsuccessful, but nonetheless fun run while I was a student. I wanted to sample the album on the air, and "The Humid Press of Days" was the track I chose at random to play. I bought my own CD copy of the album soon thereafter, and it has been in regular rotation ever since. 

Camper Van Beethoven may have gained its initial notoriety for its goofy ska/world music forgeries with satiric lyrics, but by the time of Key Lime Pie, the band had clearly grown up (albeit also grown apart), and it's to their credit that they were able to complete what turned out to be a wonderful last hurrah.