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Rescued From Obscurity
If someone had asked me a few months ago what had happened to San Francisco's Swell and Nova Scotia's Sloan--two bands that graced my 1994 "best of" list--I would've bet money that they had played their last notes. Yet here they are, each back with new releases, and each with a different approach to their craft. Swell actually were down for the count, having been released from their label, American Records, after the poor sales of their last album, the remarkable 41. The band's sound--marked by rat-a-tat drumrolls, tightly picked acoustic guitar rhythms, fuzzed-out lead guitar, and spacy vocals--just couldn't wedge its way into a modern-rock radio format dominated by bombast, rage, and sloppiness. Stung by a royalty deal that required Swell to release records on American, bandmembers David Freel and Monte Vallier contemplated regrouping under a different name with a different personality. Instead, they left San Francisco
and booked studio time in New York and L.A. With 10 tracks in the can,
they Judging by the sound of Too Many Days Without Thinking, Swell's travails didn't shake their confidence or their sound; this is unmistakably a Swell album, right down to the rat-a-tats. At the same time, the group has opened up its music a little from the dark, confined spaces of 41. The record has a warmer tone, and more songs work in major keys and up tempos. The vocals, too, are a little sharper, even if the lyrics remain firmly lodged in the stratosphere of obscurity. In fact, even songs with seemingly straightforward titles like "What I Always Wanted" and "Fuck Even Flow" veer off into the ether. The lyrics of the former tune simply alternate between the title and the line "Now I'm failing to come down," before switching to a litany of regrets. The latter is a recital of non sequiturs that seemingly have nothing to do with the monster Pearl Jam hit referenced in the title. (It's also the band's catchiest song and, perversely, their most profane.) This is what makes Swell's
music so compelling. Their feet are firmly planted, while their heads
are off having adventures they can only half-relate. If they refuse
to change much, it's only because they're happy with who they are. When
they catch hold of a song as fresh and original as "When You Come Over"--which
features a guitar that skips across the vocals like a rock traversing
a pond--the listener is pretty happy to meet the band on their own turf.
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Swell's New Release Encourages
Smoking and Thinking
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this album is the product of not thinking, it would benefit the world
if more artists decided not to apply their brain matter to forming pop
music. Perhaps the nod for grey-matter flexibility should go to the independent
label, Beggars Banquet, for releasing an album full of intricately composed,
ear-pleasing music. More appropriately, the nods should be directed at
the three-person combination known as Swell. "Throw the Wine," excites the cockles of any radio-sick cynic's heart, by skimming the edges of normality while arriving in that rare area between standard pop music and music innovation. Swell uses common instruments to produce almost common sounds, but there is something that is hard to pin down, that separates this music from the regular schlock that invades so many parts of this common world. The uncommon interplay between the instruments continues on the second track, "What I Always Wanted." The song moves from a joyous drum pattern to a steady pop chorus, all the while repeating the lines, "I am failing to come down." Swell refuses to stoop down to a level of mediocrity, with the song "Fuck Even Flow," which barely hangs onto its own bass drum backbeat. "(I Know) The Trip," is a close contender with "Throw the Wine" for the highlight of the disc. Both compositions plead the listener to participate in one or all of the following activities: singing with either the repetitive back up vocals, or take on the arduous task of learning the lyrics; humming either tune during an early morning shower; and/or accompanying the band with 'air' drumming. It is unnecessary to blow air into this album. Reviews such as this one simply vituperate music that should really be left alone to speak for itself. - Jordan Mitchell |
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"I got a madness that stumbles and climbs, 300 good days and 66 crimes, too late for progress I'm so far behind, do me the favour of washing my mind." With its roots in the off-kilter new wave rock of Talking Heads circa 1977 (although much less manic), this is devoutly cult American indie to file alongside the likes of Pavement and Buffalo Tom. The San Francisco-  based
Swell (Monte Vallier, bass; Sean Kirkpatrick, drums and sleeve art; David
Freel, guitar and vocals), have been around since about 1990 and started
to get noticed in the UK in 1992 when they did a session for John Peel
and released their second LP ...well? This fourth LP is a slow
grower and on the first couple of listens you could be forgiven for thinking
there were only a couple of decent tunes. But Swell are much more complex
and musically varied than you first realise. Tracks like the floaty, gently
acoustic 'Fuck Even Flow' occasionally get the pace going from a grungy
drone to an indie high spot and the single '(I Know) The Trip' has a squealing,
grinding guitar riff and loud, shouting catchy chorus which is the high
spot of the album. But the rest is far from filler - it just takes time
to get to you and eventually you'll be swooning to the sound of 'Bridgette,
You Love Me', a delicate acoustic ballad that at first you might have
overlooked. Sometimes the best music can be like that. (RT) |
 USC Daily Trojan |
How would we get through life without the little, sometimes forgettable, pleasurable moments? Things we don't really think about until we're doing them and then we immediately think we should do this more often. The little moments that we don't talk about doing, but help us finish the day. For some, it could be drinking a cool glass of lemonade on a hot and breezy summer day. For others, it could be a stroll through the park, a viewing of a favorite childhood film, or just listening to cherished record once again. Swell's Too Many Days Without Thinking conjures up these kinds of moments. No, not in the lyrics, for David Freel's analyses on this album take frighteningly real looks at the deception of relationships and what we all fool ourselves into thinking about our own lives. On one track Freel can't figure out why he stayed in a relationship ("Throw the Wine"), and later can't figure out why he's attracted to someone ("Make Mine You").  Maybe
he doesn't want the trouble of finding someone new, or maybe he just wants
to convince himself of something that isn't real as he sings "Having
less of what we came for / Having more of what we like". He doesn't
know, and neither do we. Then later, he regretfully looks down on someone
else for sticking with a bad partner. It all comes together on the album's climax, "(I Know) The Trip." In this song, Freel thinks he has everyone else figured out. "(I Know) The Trip" is like a long bus ride, where one might instantly draw up lives for everyone around themselves based solely on physical features. But, Freel realizes everyone around him is criticizing him and he struggles to see exactly where he fits in. He admits he was "rich and jealous to start," as is everyone he's criticizing. The feel of the album is like recalling a sometimes forgettable, yet pleasurable, moment. Freel's vocals entice the listener to pay more attention, and even when he screams--as he does on the chorus of "Throw the Wine," when he comes to the realization that he let his relationship linger too long--he's shouting at a whisper. The guitars swirl in and out as if they were being pushed along by a slow moving fan. Even when Swell reaches the occasional powerful chorus, the lead guitars echo like they were being slammed with feathers. Swell slowly circles around the listener, but never lets us get too close. We leave wishing we could have more, and we put the album down, telling ourselves we'll have to listen to it again someday. After all, it was enjoyable. But before we've filed it away, we've forgotten exactly what it was that made us enjoy this album. In a way, it's kind of mysterious, which is never a bad thing. The songs are never really conventional, yet never really experimental. Swell seems to be stuck somewhere in-between the world of independent rock and commercial rock. This is best demonstrated by the song "When You Come Over," whose opening recalls even the toughest Guided By Voices segment, but then switches into a dusty storm of guitars and drums--each follows its own path down completely different directions. Swell's Too Many Days Without Thinking is a pleasurable album, but honestly, it isn't something we'll remember or hum in the middle of a workday. So, buy it used and enjoy it, or maybe you'd rather indulge yourself in an ice filed glass of lemonade. B - Todd Martens |
struck a deal with Beggar's Banquet (a kind of purgatory for well-intentioned
bands--Buffalo Tom, The Fall, and The Wedding Present have all trod
water there). Now Swell have put out what may be their best album--a
tight collection of well-worked songs alive with presence and passion.
Singer/songwriter/guitarist
David Freel is somewhat of a poet, a term that some rockers may fear,
but one that he apparently does not. Certainly many people over the
years have been called "poet," some aptly, many not. In Freel's case,
however, the shoe fits. He writes clever, witty, sometimes depressing
tales of love, travel, drugs, anger, what have you. And while his vocal
range is limited, this makes his words more effective. His almost deadpan
delivery serves to highlight his wry wit and clever turns of phrases.
On the album's opener, "Throw the Wine," he laments: "I got a madness
that stumbles and climbs / Three hundred good days and sixty-six crimes."
His lyrics are supported by spare, sometimes haunting, music. The jazzy
drumming of Sean Kirkpatrick (with some by Clem Waldmann), casual bass
of Monte Vallier and slide guitar flourishes give a smoky feel to some
of the tunes. This band paints a well-defined aural picture, evoking
images of wet city streets, late night lovers' quarrels and lazy trips
to the 24-hour Denny's.
