But before we get to that, I'll start by saying that I tended to avoid anything that was lumped into the category of "indie rock" back in the 1990s. My general take on indie rock was that it was a convenient marketing label for groups that were too shitty/high to make it to the mainstream.
"You only know three chords, and you don't play those all that well? Great! You're an indie band!"
And in 1997, Chapel Hill, NC, was awash with indie rock bands. I'd walk down Franklin Street past bars and see names of the bands performing, and I'd immediately want to throw something through a plate glass window.
Archers of Loaf? Polvo? Zen Frisbee?
The names screamed faux-disaffected, tone-deaf white kids from Wonder Bread suburbia.
I even got dragged to a couple of shows. I'd give in to some friend's enthusiastic pleading ("Mike, man, you've gotta check out The Virginal Urinal Cakes; they're the best band ever!"), and I'd stand there at some dank venue on a Wednesday evening, listening to some dude in a beat-up "Just Say No" t-shirt, who looked like he'd failed to take his own advice, mumbling random lyrics into the mic over distorted, go-nowhere chords for the duration of a bottle of ill-gotten beer (because you didn't dare order any booze in a glass at those places unless you wanted a flaming case of Hep A). Once I'd had enough, I'd suddenly remember that I had an exam for my "Ethics in 15th Century Animal Husbandry" class the next day, and I'd simultaneously make my excuses and way for the door.
Then one afternoon, I see this poster in the window of my favorite record store for this outfit called Ben Folds Five, but there are three dorky-looking guys in t-shirts in the photo, staring blankly at the camera. There's a handwritten sign beneath it that says, "New album recorded in Chapel Hill."
My immediate thought was, "UGH. More indie dreck."
I wanted to burn the place to the ground.
A couple of days later, I'm hanging out with folks from the campus literary magazine, trying to lay out that quarter's issue. We're sitting around, debating whether or not to fill some empty space with original "artwork" from Microsoft Paint or a reject pile-poem, in which the author had misspelled the same word so many times, so many different ways, that none of us were sure if he meant "heaven," "heaving," or "heathen." (We ultimately went with our editor's drawing.) Anyway, one of the other assistant editors put on some music as motivation to get the layout done, and I instantly liked it.
Big, bold piano, fuzz bass, and booming drums. Great harmony vocals. And a wickedly clever lyric about an epic breakup, replete with broken plates and a traffic fatality.
"What is this?" I asked.
"Oh, it's Ben Folds Five. It's called 'Fair.' It's off their new album."
I instantly felt bad about wanting to burn down the record store. I kind of wondered if Hallmark made a greeting card for that: "Sorry I was considering arson. Let's be pals!"
"Fair" is still my favorite track from Whatever and Ever, Amen. Robert Sledge's howls of distorted bass provide a perfect, punky counterpoint to the 70s singer/songwriter sunniness of Ben Folds's piano melody. And for some reason, that indelible ba-ba-ba hook always brings to mind the guilty disco pleasure/one-hit-wonder "More, More, More" by Andrea True Connection. (It pains me that I even know that song.)
It's just a perfect example of how the band's "take us or leave us" aesthetic combined with Folds's penchant for pop tunesmithery and affection for early Elton John created something fresh and authentic in the wasteland of late 90s rock.
No comments:
Post a Comment