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Ride the Tiger ( 1986 )6.5 The Cone of Silence / Big Sky / The Evil That Men Do / The Forest Green / The Pain of Pain / The Way Some People Die / The Empty Pool / Alrock’s Bells / Five Years / Screaming Dead Balloons / Living in the Country The debut of one of the most acclaimed underground rock acts of the 90’s doesn’t sound like their later drone-epics very much, but those who are familiar with the band’s output will certainly recognize the roots of much of the later stuff. More jangly than during the next decade, this early incarnation of the band sounds like a crossover between seminal 80’s jangle-acts such as R.E.M. and The Feelies on the one hand, and their own folkier self of the Fakebook-era (a collection of covers by bands that influenced them, recorded in 1990). Dump (James McNew) wasn’t in the band yet, and the bass duties were taken up by a guy called Mike Lewis and – on three tracks – former Mission Of Burma bass player Clint Conley, who also produced the album. Lead guitarist is Dave Schramm, who would leave the band shortly after the release of this album (and who still fronts the suitably named band The Schramms). |
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| I don’t get why this album is so harshly dismissed by many YLT-fans, since it certainly has a charming batch of songs (and a few clunkers, I have to admit that), and even a few impressive tracks. The best of them all is probably the album opener “The Cone of Silence,” a deliciously jangly song, with a great guitar solo, courtesy of Schramm. Other fine tracks are a premature version of “The Evil That Men Do,” of which two versions would appear on their third album, President Yo La Tengo (1989). Obviously very Velvet Underground-inspired, it’s a song that benefits from the great use of feedback and a rumbling bass that helps keeping things together. Schramm himself provides and sings the album’s two remaining good songs, “The Way Some People Die” and “Five Years.” Admittedly, Schramm isn’t much of a singer, but neither is Ira Kaplan, and he does turn in two infectious jangly pop songs, that reminded me a lot of the later dB’s stuff, or, more specifically, of Mavericks, the album Stamey and Holsapple released in 1991. As for the merely decent songs, “Screaming Dead Balloons” has a great use of dissonance, but never quite reaches the heights of “The Evil That Men Do” or subsequent efforts. Several other songs qualify as gentle folk-rock, especially “The Forest Green,” with its half-mumbled vocals, breathy backing vocals by Georgia Hubley (often considered the ‘current Moe Tucker’) and a guitar that weirdly reminds me of a well-known John Barry-theme; and “Alrock’s Bells,” which meanders along with more of those trademark Kaplan-vocals. Quite similar, when it comes to atmosphere, are the two subdued covers “Big Sky” (Ray Davies) and the instrumental “Living in the Country” (Pete Seeger). This leaves us with “The Pain of Pain” and “The Empty Pool” (written by someone called Weckerman, maybe The Feelies’ drummer?), both of which are quite boring, because they don’t seem to evolve into actual songs with distinctive melodies. In the latter’s case it’s not really a problem, considering the short length, but “The Pain of Pain” goes on for a long five and a half minute. If you would have only heard Painful or And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out before this album, it may have sounded awkward, but as I said before, it does make sense in the light of the overall idea of Yo La Tengo’s output. The problem with this album is a certain lack of identity or inventiveness, which can be deadly in a genre like this, since there are more than enough bland clones around. However, the album’s best songs are already an indication that this band would be capable of creating entirely satisfying albums, albeit not in the direction they’d actually choose. Note: New editions of the album add four bonus tracks: “The River of Water,” an early single recorded in 1985, with Dave Rick on bass, the b-side being a decent cover of Love’s “A House Is Not a Motel.” Finally, it also contains two live tracks: “Crispy Duck” and the Schramm-sung “Closing Time.” |
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New Wave Hot Dogs ( 1987 )7 Clunk / Did I Tell You / House Fall Down / Lewis / Lost in Bessemer / It’s Alright (the Way That You Live) / 3 Blocks from Groove Street / Let’s Compromise / Serpentine / A Shy Dog / No Water / The Story of Jazz 1987’s self-produced New Wave Hot Dogs saw Yo La Tengo, the core of which still consisted of Ira Kaplan (guitar, vocals) and Georgia Hubley (drums, cover art), move (gradually) further into noisier territory. Prime jangler Dave Schramm had left the band in the meantime, and Kaplan started to take care of guitar duties, while the bass was handled by a guy called Stephan Wichnewski, who also appeared on the next album, but then disappeared off the face of the earth (or so it seems). Maybe Schramm’s departure led Kaplan, who was now the only guitarist, to pursue a different, tougher style, but the album still finds the band hesitating between jangly folk-rock and dissonant guitar exercises, which would become their trademark from the next album onwards. I once read an interview with Georgia Hubley in which she argued that one should be a moron to love this album (some people know everything about self-promotion, don’t they?), but the eternal optimist in me disagrees. |
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Ok, Hot Dogs still isn’t an impressive album (no, no jokes about Hot Tuna’s Burgers here), but at least it shows some creativity here and there, as the band is trying to escape its fairly anonymous jangle-rock sound. The problem is still, though, that they haven’t reached their end-destination yet, which results in a somewhat directionless album that became its own worst enemy by appealing only to music freaks. Like thousands of other albums, Hot Dog sets off with its greatest song, the Feelies-inspired “Clunk” that betrays Kaplan’s limited vocal reach (one more reason why they would be called ‘a modern Velvet Underground’), but that also has some raw guitar dissonance that combines the more abstract artiness of Sonic Youth with the more accessible style of their jangle-contemporaries. Other noteworthy tracks that rock with glee are the bouncy “Serpentine,” which, regardless of its brevity (1:54), is a good song with a few cool sonic details (the organ accents and the slightly growling bass that becomes steadily dirtier); and “A Shy Dog,” the more up-tempo track that follows it. Noisier than both songs is the album’s second (and final) impressive track, “House Fall Down,” the first of their songs that fearlessly explores the as yet un-touched domain of atonality and dissonance, and with success. Although those who have never been confronted with this style before (or those who just can’t get into it, like my mother), might complain about its ‘gratuitous character’ or its ‘on purpose-chaos,’ it’s a first instance of the band trying to work with sound textures that defy conventional classifications. Instead of just violating their guitars or making noise for its own sake, it is as if the band turns feedback into another instrument, a mini-sized wall of sound that adds an extra sonic dimension to the song (yes, I know this sounds ridiculous, but I think you know what I mean if you’re familiar with the band (right?)). Quite similar are “Let’s Compromise,’ which basically doesn’t have much to offer, as it’s just a short drone without much action; and the album closer “The Story of Jazz,” which isn’t about jazz at all, but does name-check Georgia and Steve Albini. The remainder of the album consists of decent, but slightly unremarkable folk-rock (“Did I Tell You” and “Lewis,” on which dB’s front-man Chris Stamey plays guitar as well), and a handful of wistful songs that are less successful than the more rocking tracks, with the short, and charming, instrumental “Lost in Bessemer” as only exception. “It’s Alright (The Way That You Live)” is an unsurprising cover of The Velvet Underground, “3 Blocks from Groove Street” a gentle song about escapism, featuring trademark mumbled vocals by Kaplan, that somehow fails to escape its own boringness, and “No Water” doesn’t have much to remember it by, either. It’s fair to say that New Wave Hot Dogs is a decent transitional album that has some really good tracks (the album opener, “House Fall Down,” “Serpentine”), but also suffers a bit from plainness, because the album’s lesser songs are quite generic and unremarkable. But, like I said, it’s worth checking out, and available only on a CD-edition with the better next album. New Wave Hot Dogs gets a (low) 7 from me. |
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President Yo La Tengo ( 1989 )8 Barnaby, Hardly Working / Drug Test / The Evil That Men Do (Craig’s Version) / Orange Song / Alyda / The Evil That Men Do (Pablo’s version) / I Threw It All Away Now this is what I call an improvement! This long EP (or is it a short album?) is not only the first truly satisfying Yo La Tengo album, but it’s also the first instance of a band that has found its own niche and that dares to explore new territory without restraint. Stephan Wichnewski plays bass on 3 songs, while Gene Holder, who also produced the album (and did a good job), takes care of the bass on the remaining four tracks. But ultimately, guitars is what this album is all about. The band explores the limits of what can be done with a guitar, not just by turning up the volume as loud as possible, but by applying new textures like on “Barbaby Hardly Working” which isn’t about classic structures, but focuses on feedback-forced trance instead. With the bare minimum of ideas, the band succeeds in creating an oddly mesmerizing track that, despite the minimalist approach (just check out Hubley’s drumming), reaches maximum effect. On other tracks, the band is searching for the thin line between structure and chaos (the 10-minute squall-fest “The Evil That Men Do”). In that respect, it’s probably the first album that shows the band was more than just another Sonic Youth or Velvet Underground-clone, and that it was capable of making its own masterpieces (although it would take them a few more years to pull that off). |
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The hypnotic feedback of the opening track is followed by the more conventional “Drug Test,” which could’ve been a track on Ride the Tiger, as this song never leaves the domain of jangly folk-rock. The album’s other folky track, “Alyda,” on the other hand, would also fit on their next album, as it seems a gentle and acoustic take on some forgotten 50’s gems. Again, and like “Barnaby,” it’s a very simple track, but it benefits immensely from details such as Hubley’s breathy backing vocals and her ever minimal, but fitting, drumming. “Orange Song” was written by a band called Antietam (that I had never heard of before) and is a propulsive rocking track that’s quite fast (although mid-tempo can almost be considered ‘fast’ in YLT’s catalogue), but suffers from Kaplan yelled vocals, that are further proof of the fact that the more hypnotic music with mumbled vocals suits him better. The essential tracks on this release are of course the two versions of “The Evil That Men Do.” While the short one (2:37) is an enigmatic instrumental version, that seems to combine the tightness of the Ventures with the catchiness of 60’s soundtracks, it’s the long version (10:30), that attracts the most attention, as it’s one of their most relentlessly daring tracks, a freak-out of screeching feedback, dissonant squalls and plain noise, over a foundation of unusual but steady drumming, and rumbling bass. While it’s certainly an acquired taste (it shouldn’t be too hard to find a few dozen people right off the bat who hate this song), I definitely like this incarnation of Yo La Tengo, the one that doesn’t abide by rules, one that turns structure and conventions upside down, replacing it with a quest for a surrogate, and which leads them to near-chaos. That sounds pretty weird, doesn’t it, so let me recapitulate by saying that this is definitely an album/EP you should have if you’re into slightly cerebral guitar-oriented rock or Hoboken, NJ-based bands. It’s Yo La Tengo’s first album that sets this band apart from the legions of other bands, plus it’s available on one CD, together with the previous album (in fact, they’re no longer available separately). |
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Fakebook ( 1990 )8.5 Can’t Forget / Griselda / Here Comes My Baby / Barnaby, Hardly Working / Yellow Sarong / You Tore Me Down / Emulsified / Speeding Motorcycle / Tried So Hard / The Summer / Oklahoma, U.S.A. / What Comes Next / The One to Cry / Andalucia / Did I Tell You / What Can I Say Talk about unpredictability! After 3 albums, that had been increasingly louder and less conventional, Yo La Tengo suddenly came up with a mostly acoustic album containing 11 covers and only five own songs. This created quite some suspicion, because they had finally found their own style on the previous album, and their judgement hadn’t always seemed that trustworthy. Their cover of Lou Reed’s “It’s Alright” (from New Wave Hot Dogs), for instance, was rather disappointing, but even before that, they had perhaps overestimated themselves a bit by covering Love’s “A House Is Not a Motel.” Among the cover material on this collection are some obvious choices and critic’s favourites, such as Gene Clark (“Tried So Hard” from the Flying Burrito Bros’ title-less third album), John Cale (1919’s “Andalucia”) and The Flamin’ Groovies (“You Tore Me Down” from Shake Some Action). However, the album also contains some less obvious cuts, some of which are pretty obscure. At least, I had never heard of The Escorts, The Scene Is Now, or Rex Garvin and the Mighty Cravers before. Some of the others were familiar, though, like charming outsider Daniel Johnston and roots-pop combo par excellence NRBQ. Of the five YLT-originals, 2 songs had already appeared on previous albums, “Barnaby” on President Yo La Tengo and “Did I Tell You” on New Wave Hot Dogs. |
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Overall, the album sounds folky, with lots of acoustic guitar, double bass, and muted drums, but there are also some nice instances of steel guitar (taken care of by Dave Schramm), organ, and fiddle (on “The One to Cry”). As for the songs: they do show some variation. Some are introspective and gentle, while others are more playful and bouncy. “Griselda,” for instance, is a track that’s guaranteed to bring you in a good mood in a split second. The equally infectious “Here Comes My Baby” that follows it, is a song that perhaps eclipses the original by Cat Stevens. Other examples are the goofy “Emulsified,” which somehow succeeds in combining 50’s R&B and bubblegum pop (those girlish backing vocals are hilarious), and has Kaplan fearlessly giving his all; and the ultra-short party track “The One to Cry.” Other songs are reminiscent of the folky jangle-rock of The Byrds: Gene Clark’s “Tried So Hard” for obvious reasons, and “Yellow Sarong” because of its 60’s guitar sound and the excellent harmonies of Kaplan/Hubley. The song is also one of the first instances where Hubley does lead vocals, sounding like a less-detached Nico. An absolute album highlight is their cover of The Flamin’ Groovies “You Tore Me Down,” which is of an almost unparalleled beauty because of the great vocal delivery of both Hubley and Kaplan (and it was already a fabulous song to start with, of course) and the effective musicianship that’s definitely vintage-YLT, but that also shows respect to the original. Also Kaplan’s “What Comes Next” has a sound that reminds of the psychedelic side of The Byrds (think Notorious Byrds Brothers). The other tracks are a bit different, whether it is the deliciously country-tinged (blame it on the steel guitar) album opener “Can’t Forget,” the minimalist Daniel Johnston-gem “Speeding Motorcycle” (one of the loveliest tracks on the entire album), or the Hubley-sung country-pop (like a less affected version of Patsy Cline) of “What Can I Say.” I could mention all the remaining songs as well (like their version of “Andalucia” and “Oklahoma”, or their excellent re-workings of earlier tracks “Barnaby” and “Did I Tell You), but that’s not really necessary, as Fakebook is an immensely consistent album, that despite the variety of the covers, sounds as one coherent and convincing whole. Several other ‘alternative’ artists (Mark Lanegan with I’ll Take Care of You (1999) or The Walkabouts’ Satisfied Mind (1993, which also covered songs by Gene Clark and John Cale) come to mind) followed YLT’s example by making semi-acoustic cover albums, but few delivered it with as much style, creativity and joyful conviction as Yo La Tengo. Fakebook is an a-typical YLT-album, but at the same time also a proof of the fact that this band never cared about expectations, and did what they were good at: doing their own thing. Therefore, you could also see it as a typical Tengo album, of course. |
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