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Good ( 1992 )6 Good / The Saddest Song / Claire / Have a Lucky Day / You Speak My Language / You Look Like Rain / Do Not Go Quietly Unto Your Grave / Lisa / The Only One / Test-Tube Baby/Shoot ‘m Down / The Other Side / I Know You (Part I) / I Know You (Part II) A weirdly original trio, Morphine’s line-up consisted of Mark Sandman (2-string slide bass, vocals), Dana Colley (baritone and other saxes) and Jerome Dupree (drums). The result was a sound that could be both warm and bluesy as well as cerebral and detached. The latter is certainly present on this first album, where several songs seem vehicles for Sandman’s smart and often street-wise wordplay, combining thoughtful introspection with ironical observations. On the other hand, the band was also capable of playing a mean rock ‘n roll tune that could impress, despite the absence of guitar. “Good,” the album opener, is one of many laidback grooves that are spread all over the album. Dupree provides a foundation of subtle drumming while Sandman and Colley add subdued bass and muted sax. |
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| The track immediately sets the tone for the reminder of the album, oozing out an uncomfortable darkness. The next song, “The Saddest Song,” is immediately the indisputable album highlight, a slow song with a slide bass that sounds incredibly sad. It also has the typical Sandman-wordplay full of repetitions (“On my first day back, first day back in town, first day, first day back in town…”) and an echo added to the vocals (a nice touch during the passage where Sandman sings “Come and get me in myself”). Other worthwhile tracks are “You Speak My Language,” with its steady rhythm and loud chorus during which the band really rocks out (finally!), and the jazzier “Claire,” that has several layers of saxophone, and which succeeds in leaving an impression. Sadly enough, the rest of the album isn’t as impressive, though not bad either. “Have a Lucky Day” sounds definitely very cool and smart, and has some dirty baritone sax accents during the chorus, while the similar “The Only One” is an oddly funky track that offers a few memorable instances of excellent interplay. “The Other Side” creates a slightly feverish, Nick Cave-like atmosphere (though not nearly as threatening), and “Test-tube Baby/Shoot ‘m Down” starts off with nice propulsive drumming that speeds the pace up a bit, but never really develops into a memorable song. That can also be said of the bluesy “I Know You (Part I),” an improvement of the instrumental “I Know You (Part II).” Finally, “You Look Like Rain” is plain boring and the conversational “Do Not Go Quietly Unto Your Grave” only made me wonder whether it refers to Dylan Thomas’s poem “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night” or not (I think it does). Good introduces this trio with a nice and original sound, but without the songs to match that appeal. It’s not that these songs are bad or anything (although the album contains only one great song and two or three memorable tracks), it’s just that most of them are unremarkable, and therefore you’ll be waiting for a pay-off you’re not going to get. Not on this album, anyway. |
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Cure for Pain ( 1993 )8 Dawna / Buena / I’m Free Now / All Wrong / Candy / A Head with Wings / In Spite of Me / Thursday / Cure for Pain / Mary Won’t You Call My Name? / Let’s Take a Trip Together / Sheila / Miles Davis’ Funeral While their 1992 debut introduced a band with an intriguing sound and an unusual line-up, the album also failed to be entirely satisfying. Sure, the combination of melancholy slide-bass, sax and drums often sounded weirdly soothing, and here and there the band rocked out. However, despite their originality and inventiveness, the album seemed to lack something. And it’s not necessarily the absence of guitar or the two remaining bass strings, because with Cure for Pain, the Boston trio delivered an unshakeably confident and well-rounded album that stands firmly on its own, without guitars. Perhaps the band realized it themselves, perhaps they received signals from their fans or the music press, but this album is much more full-bodied than the previous one, with both the bass and sax way more upfront, sounding warm, sometimes even dirty, and, most importantly: exciting. It may not be their loudest album (insofar ‘loudest’ and ‘Morphine’ could ever fit in the same sentence), but it sure offers some nice thrills, as well as more modest tracks that are surprisingly touching on their own. |
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Take “Buena,” for instance, which is probably the most familiar track on this album (I think it was also used in some big budget movie, but I forgot which one): the combination of the repetitive bass-line and funky drumming will have you wiggle your ass in five seconds flat. Also, Sandman has learned to phrase his smart lyrics in a more appealing way, reciting them with much more glee and humour. Finally, it also contains a sax solo that blows away any sax part from Good. Other great-sounding and funky mid-tempo tracks are “All Wrong,” which has a sax solo with loads of wah-wah (what else is it?), and “Sheila,” with its simple and seductive music and enigmatic lyrics (“Sheila has a cat, she pats the cat, puts a spell on the cat, runs her fingers down his back, looks him in the eye, makes the cat reply”). Faster and even more electrifying are firstly the adulterous love story “Thursday” (“And sure enough one of the neighbours they saw my car, and now she says they think they know who you are, and her husband is a very violent and jealous man”), in which the bass and sax sound as distorted, excited, and wild as they should sound, and, secondly, the raunchy “Mary Won’t You Call My Name,” with another fatal woman (“I fell into the hand’s of a rich man’s daughter, she led me like a lamb no bother”) and excellent musicianship. The band also slows down the tempo in several places, with a few excellent results such as the gently paced “I’m Free Now,” and the album’s supreme ballad, “Candy”, which has a lovely and sad vocal melody that benefits from the puzzling, well-written, but slightly morbid lyrics: “Candy asked me if she died, if I could go on, of course I said I couldn’t and of course we knew that’s wrong, but Candy I said Candy no you can’t do that to me because you love me way too much for you to ever leave.” The title track and “Head with Wings” are further proof of the fact that the band had progressed with leaps and bounds, and both offer infectious sax accents and an irresistible rhythmic pulse. There are a few ‘different’ tracks, that are a retreat from the chosen direction, like the mandolin-dominated “In Spite of Me,” and the drugged-sounding “Let’s Take a Trip Together,” but they’re the least impressive tracks on this album, lacking the essence of what made the other tracks good in the first place. An exception is the sad, 1:47-long album closer, “Miles Davis’ Funeral”, which only has some silently wailing electric guitar, acoustic guitar strumming, soft percussion, and muted humming. This song should have been 10 minutes longer, that’s how beautiful it is. When I bought this album a decade ago, I must have listened to it at least 5 times a day the first two months. I was that intrigued by this peculiar combination of smart lyrics, often minimal but steadily impressive playing, and the seductive late-night atmosphere this album oozes out. While it’s still my favourite Morphine album, I am no longer baffled by it like I used to be, maybe because I heard it too much, maybe for some other reason. Anyway, Cure for Pain made quite an impact on me and many other music fans during the early and mid-90’s, and it will keep on doing that, for as long as people are willing to embrace the compelling and sometimes addictive moods of Morphine. |
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