Rating: 8
Squirm factor: 3
   There are a lot of claims that have been made for this record, and I guess I’m a little skeptical. For example, I’m not sure it “saved rock and roll” from a scene dominated by mindless heaviosity or pre-fab popsters whose appeal is primarily visual (which is ironic because the band got some early attention for its penchant toward coordinated outfits.)
   I do know, however, that this is a killer album, with a brilliant synthesis of divergent musical styles, that offers a little something for everyone. Over inspired guitar licks that bear a resemblance to both hard rock and punk, there are impassioned vocals singing wonderful melodies from a variety of popular traditions. There’s even some plain old cacaphony for the noise-rock junkies in the audience. And, of course, some inspired yet powerful drumming.
   It helps to have three strong songwriters working – even when they try on the same ideas, the results are beautifully varying. For example, “Dear Prudence,” “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” and “Rocky Raccoon” all tackle a descending bass line under a steady chord progression. But while “Prudence” is a bucolic dream, complete with monk-like chanting and a gossamer tone on the electric guitar, “While My Guitar” shifts between a verse in minor and a chorus in major keys to establish a mournful tone (helped out by the restrained bluesy lead guitar), and “Rocky Raccoon” has a light-hearted vaudeville feel (despite the shaggy-dog story in the lyrics). Other outstanding guitar ideas include “Birthday” which alternates a strong bass riff with the same riff played on heavily-amped guitars, leading to an earsplitting chorus, and the gentle upward movement of “I’m So Tired”, which has a thin, underproduced tone that suits the sleepy feeling of the tune and lyrics (it sounds like the band just woke up).
   The outstanding guitar parts are also present for the acoustic set. “Blackbird” is a perennial favorite at music shops, because with just three strings almost anyone can create a thing of beauty, with poetic lyrics that conjure the best parts of human ambition, and a classic melody in three arcs, each reaching higher until “Blackbird, fly!” sends the tune into the stratosphere; and the whole thing just runs up and down the guitar neck very simply. “I Will” sparkles with finger-picking through a complex Tin Pan Alley-style chord sequence, and “Julia” is also finger-picked, but with an Indian-inspired drone style.
   The band were no slouches on the keyboards, either. “Ob-la-di Ob-la-da” is just frantic with its bouncy intro and stride-piano pattern, and “Sexy Sadie” skillfully inverts the chords for a line that subverts the doo-wop style vocals with a sinister feel. “Piggies” revives a mock-classical motif on the harpsichord to withering satirical effect, and “Martha My Dear” is a tour-de-force of pianism, hiding the melody in a fascinating sequence of harmonies, bass lines, and counter-melodies.
   It’s the vocals that are the real attraction to this album, though. From a gently crooning “Mother Nature’s Son” to a blistering “Yer Blues”, these guys can handle anything with power and emotion, to spine-tingling effect.
   And speaking of spine-tingling, the conclusion of this album is the most heart-wrenching fifteen minutes you’ll ever hear. “Cry Baby Cry” is a nursery rhyme on the surface, but like most of Mother Goose, it hides a disturbing feeling of unease about unnamed terrors, emphasized by the spooky echo and funereal organ. Then a plaintive voice sings “Can you take me back where I came from, brother can you take me back?”, wailing into a fade-out that fades back in to an odd voice repeating “Number nine” amidst a melange of piano and odd noises. The chaos builds and fades, structured in a compelling rhythm. I can’t say what it’s about, but I can never shut it off. There’s a real instinct for sound structure at work, and it’s absolutely chilling. Even in the middle of the day, it’s the sound of night falling, which is redeemed by the closer, “Good Night.” The singer’s no great shakes and the melody won’t win any prizes, but it’s just his everyman quality that makes the tune so appropriate; after the nightmare of “Revolution Nine,” hearing this tune sung by this guy brings the proceedings to an exhausted conclusion. Like I said, emotionally devastating.
   So, I don’t know if this album lives up to the hype, but taken on its own merits, as a collection of incredible tunes and great playing, it’s one of the best ever.

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