LOOKING FOR THE MAGIC

I’ve listened to all of the Felt songs available on various compilations on Spotify but didn’t think to try a full album of their’s until this week. This was a big mistake on my part. I had been missing out on Felt’s The Strange Idols Pattern and Other Short Stories. I’ve listened to Strange five or six times: once in bed before falling asleep, the next day on the way to work, while at work and (after putting it onto a cassette) once while slowly driving down Newbury Street, late last night with my wife, looking at the window displays. Aside from not being much of a before-bed album, Strange can be played whenever. 

Strange shimmers and shuffles along, broken up by an occasional, brief instrumental showcasing Maurice Deebank’s guitar virtuosity. Released by Cherry Red Records in 1984, this record brings to mind an ornate mish-mash of three personal favorites: Orange Juice, Vini Reilly/Durutti Column and Television. Lawrence’s vocals, faux-Tom Verlaine (Lawrence has been very open with his adoration for the New York City, post-punk Gods, even naming the band after a Television lyric) are almost monotonous when placed atop the jaunty melodies being expelled by the rest of the band, but never boring- they’re almost Felt’s trademark. Occasionally, Lawrence’s vocal melodies/patterns repeat throughout different songs and it is not so much distracting as it is familiar. 

“Sempiternal Darkness”, the second song on the album, is an instrumental guitar piece that brought to mind the Captain Beefheart song “One Red Rose That I Mean” played solely by ex-Beefheart guitarist Zoot Horn Rollo. The comparison didn’t make much sense to me at first but I think it spurs from having the same “how the hell is this person doing this?” moment when listening to the guitar work by Zoot on Lick My Decals Off, Baby. “Sempiternal” means: eternal, unchanging, everlasting - a word I would not use to describe the guitar playing on Strange and certainly not on this song. The track is dizzying, mesmerizing, and gives you an up close look at the guitar parts that are weaving in and out of the more pop-oriented tracks on this album. There is no question that Deebank had classical training. Singer Lawrence was enamored by Deebank when he heard him play “Mr. Tambourine Man” at a young age and has said that he always encouraged Deebank to go wild on the Felt recordings. Sadly, the guitarist would leave the band following the recording of Felt’s next album Ignite the Seven Cannons.

Kaleidoscopic, wild, wave-watching “Imprint” paints a picture of birds lilting over and across one another. The tracks melodies weightless and beautiful. “Spanish House” and “Sunlight Bathed the Golden Glow” both trod along cheerfully, direct and driving. On the latter, about a minute in, we hear a lead guitar part not unlike something Robert Smith might write (there is probably a better example that is escaping me) for “Friday I’m In Love”. These songs sound more in Lawrence’s wheelhouse than Deebanks. Short, precise pop songs. 

“Vasco Da Gama” sounds like a possible cornerstone for some of today’s indie-leaning bands. Bands like Real Estate must have been influenced by Felt in some way or other. The opening guitar line for this track is so warm and round that it feels as if songwriting team Lawrence and Deebank purposely hide it from the listener, revealing it again only in the last verse of the song. 

In “Dismantled King Is Off the Throne” Lawrence recycles a vocal part from another song, I don’t remember which. I think Lawrence’s vocals are “just enough”, regularly allowing the instrumentation to take the forefront of the songs, whether intentional or not. When I tire of following around the dizzying path of the guitar parts on this album, I think Lawrence’s lyrics may poke out a bit more. For now I’m having trouble focusing on them.

"Crystal Ball” opens with a Byrds-y bit. I had heard this song before and I think it is incredible. “Crystal Ball” is such a simply structured, pleasant song that could easily stand on it’s own acoustically, but when you move your attention strictly to Deebank’s guitar lead (and it is just one long lead, complete with little single string harmonic guitar flicks) you have a guitar pop masterpiece. The guitar work on “Crystal Ball” is outrageously tight and disciplined.

Strange’s final track “ Whirpool Vision of Shame” allows you to sit in a warm, low-tide wading pool before a bumping kick accompanied by flickering guitars enters, melancholily, followed with lyrics about falling rain and death. The band slows for a moment to catch their breath and then pop right back into place with a fluttering, scaled solo, reintroducing the verse portion of the song. The vocals ominous tone take hold over the second verse, giving the song a much more gloomy feel that stays until the close of the album.

I highly recommend Felt’s Strange Idols and Other Short Stories and look forward to listening to their many other albums; I should have thought to do so sooner.

Rating: 8.5/10

I heard the Postcard Records version of “Falling and Laughing” five or so years ago and immediately took to the undercover spy chords that build and eventually collapse pleasantly, reflecting bandleader Edwyn Collins’ emotions, in his cleverly written breakup song from 1980. The song moves from tense to groovy over and over again. Collins’ follows the band with his desperate wallow, sounding like a vampire with a sinus infection. 

“Falling and Laughing” was recorded again and starts the debut You Can’t Hide Your Love Forever, released two years later by Polydor. This time around, the tracks are void of any rough patches, completely polished, and you can hear every lick of the impressive, Felt-like guitar work. I only recently realized just how much indie artists today owe to Felt, Johnny Marr and now Edwyn Collins and James Kirk (who left OJ following this album). Around 2:30 comes possibly the most pleasant little guitar break on the album- I have listened to it more than a few times and can’t tell if it is the work of one or two guitarists but I’m leaning towards two.

The Smiths are an obvious comparison to draw when discussing Orange Juice, but aside from the dramatic vocalists and dizzying guitarists, I only found one instance where anything deeper jumped out at me. With “Upwards and Onwards″ Collins repeats “upwards and onwards,” over and over towards the song’s end, as he repeats “falling and laughing” at the end of the album opener, this repetition being a hypnotic trick employed regularly in many Smiths songs. OJ’s “Wan Light” has a Smith’s vibe but contains a part I think Morrissey and Marr would have found too silly for one of their tracks: there are multiple times in “Wan Light” when the music is interrupted by the exact horn break from Van Morrison’s “Domino” as some kind of strange homage. I think the song’s moments of adulation work but I am also a huge fan of Van Morrison's music.

For a band with such strange lead vocals, Orange Juice’s debut is rooted deeply in the styles of many classic artists that preceded them. You can notice this most on “L.O.V.E. Love”, “Consolation Prize” and “Upwards and Onwards”. Orange Juice sound as if they have the talent to be a very versatile, 4+ hour long set-style cover band- this in contrast to Collins’ voice, which at times sounds like its been fed through a circus mirror. There are a couple occasions where James Kirk takes over vocal duties, but Collins’ does the majority of the vocal work on YCHYLF. The guitars on this album weave wonderfully in and out of each other, the bass endlessly roaming around- whoever took the mic for Orange Juice would have to have felt proud and confident to be backed by this lineup. 

Being completely honest, there are many times on YCHYLF when I have no idea what Edwyn Collins is singing because of his Scottish accent, paired with his strange delivery. When I was able to hear what was being sang, I was very appreciative. In the brief “Untitled Melody” you hear

"I bought you some sun specs from the local hipster store- 

I need you more or less, 

you need me more and more"

On second listen i realized how great this simple song is. Collins’ is in a confusing relationship so he wrote a short, untitled song to help him sort through things a bit. The lyrics eventually flip flop and come to him from his partner’s perspective, solidifying how confusing the partnership has become. The vocals are housed by a mellow, Velvet Underground-sounding framework resulting in such a pleasant, melancholy song that after listening to it three times in succession, I sent two people a link to it.

Not long after “Untitled Melody” we are given “Tender Object” where Orange Juice trick the listener by starting the song in a beachy, convertible-ride-soundtrack fashion before jumping into a jerky, goofy jig. All I could think is how I wanted to hear where the fake-out intro would have gone. As much as I dislike the rushed panic of the song I noticed again how smart the chord changes and general instrumentation is. At times, “Tender Object” has a perfect, layered structure that you can hear when you listen to certain Strokes songs. 

I thoroughly enjoy most of OJ’s debut, though if I hadn’t given the album more than one listen I may have cast it aside due to the over the top production. There are tons of cheeseball horns and David Bowie Young Americans-era backup vocals that can really dampen some of the otherwise flawless performances. But the writing is too good for the production to ruin the work. With the beautiful “In a Nutshell” Bowie’s backup singers meet the Velvet Underground for a backyard gathering on a slightly overcast day. On “Consolation Prize” Collins’ makes reference to the fringe worn by Roger McGuinn, an obvious influence when you realize how the songs on this album mirror the Byrds intelligent, layered, chiming pop songs. “Satellite City” has ridiculously cool guitar runs and the lively horns actually work for a second. (This fan-made video is also pretty nuts) 

YCHYLF is a great debut album with a few songs I could have done without: “Felicity” gave me a bad-Elvis Costello-song taste in my mouth. The Al Green cover “L.O.V.E. Love” didn’t do it for me but I would still recommend YCHYLF and think it is a very smart, enjoyable debut. But if the production is just too much, listen to the early versions of the songs on The Glasgow School collection. 

Rating: 7/10

Duncan Browne’s style of guitar playing would be immediately categorized as remarkable even to someone who does not spend much time listening to music. Browne glides between a slew of impressive folk and classical style picking on his second album released by British label Rak Records in 1973. At times Duncan Browne catches you in prog-y spiderwebs before quickly sweeping you away through cozy, warm pieces about islands and hunkering down for the winter. Thank god, while showcasing a variety of styles, Browne’s second album is not a mishmashed attempt at proving he's some sort of jack-of-all-trades chameleon. I find it incredibly trying when artists approach albums with more of a concern for showmanship than content; It has never impressed me. (Side note: I think it was a genius idea when The Rolling Stones put all the rock’n’roll songs on side A of Tattoo You and the moody, more R&B flavored songs on side B). 

Duncan Browne keeps you on your toes. Lyrically a very enjoyable album full of short stories- the music almost always taking a backseat to allow you to easily decipher Browne's tales. The album hasn’t been repressed since its early ‘70′s release so it goes for a good chunk of change if you can find a copy of it. 

The album opens with some ominous, descending, plucked chords before sucking you into an acoustic prog whirlpool. I don’t know why Browne wanted to open the album like this, and I’m not sure why he ends the album in a similar manner. “Ragged Rain Life” just sets a strange tone that had me thinking this was going to be a spazzy, prog-folk record full of noodling and goofy lyrics, which it is not at all. 

The piano-guided “Cast No Shadow” opens similarly to River by Joni Mitchell and turns into a wondeful Simon and Garfunkel-tinged cautionary tale from the perspective of a friend guiding a weary companion out of a depression. I was taken aback by just how beautiful this song is and didn't really see it coming. Most people would never, ever put these songs on the same album. I don’t intend to make it sound like Browne unnecessarily stuffed the record to show just how much he can do (see paragraph 1) but he should have never included the first and last tracks. 

“Country Song” sounds like a long-lost Paul McCartney song. This comparison came up again for me on track four “My Only Son” where Browne had me wondering “Did he actually pull this vocal melody from some Paul McCartney song I haven’t heard yet?” It is too good. The track is seemingly religious but not preachy or over the top- more God's Children than With Arms Wide Open. 

Halfway through the album Browne starts to putter out a little with a Nilsson-like song that is pretty give or take but he rejuvenates things with “Journey”. With “Journey” I wondered for the first time how Duncan Browne would sound if he was backed by a full band and soon after the song starts there is a backdrop of drums, claps, synth and vocal accompaniment that fall in, giving the track a bit of a Beach Boys studio band treatment.

For me, Browne's talents as a guitarist, storyteller, melodist and artist are made most apparent on “Over the Reef”. The pleasant, romantic, breezy track is a perfect late-night oceanic snapshot. I want to visit whichever tropical places Duncan Browne went to inspire him to write this track. “Over the Reef” is melancholy, unembellished and transcendent. The song is now one of my all-time favorites.

Duncan Browne begins with the not so pleasant up and down, folk/prog dynamics of “Ragged Rain Life” and closes with the similar up and down of “Last Man Around”. The siren-like chorus that comes out of left-field is such a terrible way to end an otherwise beautiful, balmy record. I loved this album, I have probably listened to it five or six times in the past two days while biking to work, at work and when returning home. But, a word to the wise: if you listen to this album, just skip the first and last songs. 

Rating: 8/10

Favorites: Over the Reef, The Martlet, Country Song, Cast No Shadow

To me, Arthur’s compositions provide the soundtrack to a scene that looks a little something like this: An artist sits at a barren table in his garden-level flat. The floors of the abode, dirt. He’s wearing something flowing and made of a rough cotton. A framed photograph of Oscar Wilde hangs on his otherwise uncluttered walls. The scattered, blue eyed dreamer is eating spiders and absentmindedly playing with his collection of porcelain dolls while looking up at the feet of strangers walking by.

In contradiction, the drawing of Arthur on the cover shows more of a square jawed Gene Clark-type and from what I read on Light in the Attic’s website, Arthur Lee Harper was not a creepy cellar-dweller. He made this record in L.A. after showing up at Lee Hazlewood’s label headquarters and auditioning on the spot. At the time, the kind, shy, stuttering Arthur Lee Harper was living in a room at the YMCA, penniless, with two other musicians who went on to release some stuff of their own with the help of The Beach Boys.

Arthur Lee Harper was incredibly fortunate in finding Lee Hazlewood and gaining his supervision and guidance for this record. Hazlewood leaves Dreams and Images uncluttered, letting the songs speak for themselves. I find it ironic that many Hazlewood songs could have benefited from the same treatment, though Hazlewood’s Love and Other Crimes, released in the same year, is quite stripped down in its own right. When you look at the biggest hits of 1968, there really wasn’t too much happening (Hey Jude, Mrs. Robinson).

I like the consistency and brevity of this album. With the dreary album opener “Blue Museum” we find Arthur crying because he comes across someone or something (a statue/painting) that he feels he recognizes from another time in his life, subsequently causing all of his day to day problems to melt away. It becomes apparent early on that you are bearing witness to the introspective diary entries of a very frail man. “1860” sounds like if Art Garfunkel took a crack at “It Was a Very Good Year”. “Valentine Gray” and “Coming Home” are very pleasant folk songs, the latter benefiting so much from Arthur’s reserved style of performance and production. I could see many 60’s artists going in a different direction with a song so melodic, turning it into a bubbly singalong.

I would place Dreams and Images in the “loner-folk” genre. I see this genre coming up more and more to describe rereleased records by long lost, overlooked artists; records that were usually put out by private labels in the 70’s. (Stuff like Dave Bixby, Jim Sullivan, Robert Lester Folsom) I’m not surprised Arthur’s debut album went overlooked in 1968 and I wouldn’t be surprised if it continues to go overlooked upon its recent rerelease. Dreams and Images is just so overly unimposing that you have to take the time to quietly sit with it.

Rating: 5/10

The third album in the China Crisis catalogue was released by Virgin Records in 1985 and opens with the sound of children’s voices and birds chirping but is quickly overtaken by a cheery, asian-tinged guitar melody and a jittery, new-wave guitar galloping over clean, prominent 1980’s production à la Talking Heads, Haircut 100, Duran Duran or Prefab Sprout. Singer Gary Daly’s voice is clear, controlled and embodies the eighties. As the album proceeded, I was so happy to discover that China Crisis managed to create a slick, fashionable record without dressing it in a pair of leather pants and a blazer stuffed with shoulder pads.

Last summer I was sitting on a beautiful deck overlooking a river, drinking lime-flavored beer with some close friends. Scrolling through a spotify playlist of fitting, late summer-night songs, I popped on Prefab Sprout’s “Bonny,” another example of an excellent foray into interesting, intelligent, smooth pop from England. As the last chord rang out, a friend picked up my phone and put on the only song I have heard by China Crisis prior to listening to this album.

“Black Man Ray” is a spacious, breathy, mid-tempo track that coats the inside of my head powder blue and must be played again after it ends. “Black Man Ray” has become more infectious with every play and I find that I’m having to dole out only a few listens, here and there, as to not accidentally ruin it for myself. I wish it was longer, I wish they played the salt-water taffy sticky introduction for twice as long and it would also be nice to know what the song is about. I get the sense that the purpose of mortality is being examined but I don’t know who Black Man Ray is. While looking up the lyrics to this song, I noticed one comment posted below the lyrics. The comment offered some new insight about the songs meaning and was posted around the same time I heard this song in July of last summer. Commenter davido4a: “Ray Charles maybe?” Maybe. 

The sophisticated, drinking wine on a rooftop panache of the third song on the album “You Did Cut Me” is a sound I can see more and more bands of today gravitating towards (Porches, Blood Orange, TOPS). The line between schmaltzy, mall dressing room/sitting in a dentist chair songs and songs like "You Did Cut Me” is a fine, invisible line and China Crisis find themselves comfortably on the safe side. Sade did this well, Steely Dan did this well, 10,000 Maniacs could do this when they felt like it, and China Crisis do this effortlessly.

On both “Strength of Character” and “Gift of Freedom”, sister songs on Flaunt the Imperfection, China Crisis explore reggae-tinged, Police-esque song structures and do so favorably but I think the songs are borderline too similar to be on the same album. The differences between the two (tempo, energy, mood) are apparent but I think the reason I have never gravitated towards reggae is because reggae songs inevitably start to sound like each other. There are four songs between the two tracks but after about a minute into “Gift of Freedom” I had to go back and check to see why it sounded so familiar.

The oddly conventional guitar solo that appears on “King In A Catholic Style” made me wonder if maybe the guitarist had been in a more conventional band before China Crisis. When I looked into the personnel on Flaunt the Imperfection I found that Walter Becker plays drums, synthesizers and produced this album. Walter Becker of songwriting duo Becker/Fagen. Walter Becker of Steely Dan. Becker’s production suits this album ridiculously well. Steely Dan’s producer Gary Katz’s influence clearly rubbed off onto Becker. (Another really cool Katz produced song can be found here. Additionally, Becker “found” Marshall Haine who recorded possibly my favorite new song I’ve heard all year)

The album finishes strong, putting this into my favorite category of albums: records worth flipping over for more than one or two songs. If I ever come across it, I will buy this record. Also, instead of just looping “Black Man Ray” whenever I have a buzz,  I am seriously looking forward to listening to Flaunt the Imperfection all the way through while sitting outside in July.

Rating: 8/10

I decided to leave my response to my first listen of Cubist Blues in a track by track format because I don’t plan to give Cubist Blues a second listen. There have been albums in my life that I had to listen to over and over again to grasp (albums by Velvet Underground, The Modern Lovers, The Byrds, Captain Beefheart, Arthur Russell, Bjork, The Cure and especially The Rolling Stones…) but this album will not be one of them, because I do not want to like this album. I think if I heard someone listening to this album from start to finish I’d make an assumption that I probably wouldn’t really hit it off with that person and they’re probably a little up their own ass. I by no means hated Cubist Blues. I really liked a couple songs on the album and will listen to them again but I am writing about Cubist Blues as a collective album of songs and some of the songs stink.

I found Cubist Blues, in full, on youtube and oddly enough it had been uploaded just a few days ago. 124 people had already listened to it and it has seven thumbs ups. There was one comment from Edward Feltch (oh, what an interesting last name) about how he met Alex Chilton after a show in 1990 and they smoked weed and watched TV together. The album is 12 songs long and just a hair over an hour. Cubist Blues was released in 1996 by Thirsty Ear and more recently rereleased by Light in the Attic. I wanted to listen to something by Alex Chilton, and with Vega’s somewhat recent death, my adoration for Chilton’s work in Big Star, and the cool abstract album art, I decided to go with Cubist Blues.

Vega takes over singing duties and according to the liner notes Chilton plays guitar and shares synthesizer, bass, piano and drumming duties with Vaughn.

There’s a definite improvisational feel to the opener Fat City. From having heard Suicide, I am immediately familiar with Alan Vega’s repetitive, monotone, hammered Elvis ramblings that eventually turn into shrieks. The song does a good job of setting the tone for what’s to come.

Fly Away: When Alan Vega sings “there’s no pain” and “no more crying” he sounds like he’s probably lying. As the song picks up I realize that his voice and his singing style reminds me of the limited amount of Nick Cave I’ve heard (a few Birthday Party songs, soundtrack stuff, a Grinderman album and some of The Boatman’s Call album) but it reminds me of Nick Cave... a lot.

Freedom: I immediately like this song. Phasey, filtered synths whirl over a reverby drum loop while Vaughn drops some warm guitar leads over the trance. This would have been on the Drive soundtrack if it had come out in the nineties.

Candyman: When Candyman starts I am reminded that Alex Chilton is on Cubist Blues. The chiming Velvet Underground Loaded-era style guitar that breaks off into occasional blues bursts is clearly Chilton and wouldn’t have seemed out of place on a Big Star demo. If it weren’t for the demonic, didjeridoo sounding drone in the background this song could have actually made sense on an album like Big Star’s Third. (I’ve never looked into much of Alex Chilton’s solo work outside of a live album at the Ocean Club in ’77). Vega’s absentminded mumblings actually add a nice layer to the top of the track, saving what could otherwise be a bit too straightforward of a song for an album categorized as being in the  “art rock” genre. Candyman is a cool song.

Come On Lord: I thought this was a pretty give or take song overall.

Promised Land: Promised Land opens like a more organic sounding Suicide song. The track is a blend of snappy looping electric and live drums accompanied by a hooky, fuzzed out keyboard line while feedback weaves in and out of the groove. I kept thinking this album had to have been a live recording of three guys improvising, trying out multiple takes of each song but the credits on the album prove otherwise. Vaughn is credited with both guitar and drums on this song and unless the man has multiple arms (he doesn’t, I checked) there is no way he is doing both in syncopation.

Lover of Love: Again, the song starts with a very obvious Alex Chilton blues riff, this time on piano. I typically get very bored with “by the book” blues riffs but I don’t mind when Alex Chilton plays them, I’m not sure why he gets a pass. This song gets pretty sloppy and falls out of time on more than one occasion. Lover of Love didn’t need to be on this album. This was the first song I felt like skipping and I started to get nervous that the rest of the album was going to go downhill.

Sister: Sounds like music that would be playing in the back of a lounge by a band that isn’t going to get paid that night.

Too Late: Too Late builds off of a smooth, rolling riff over yet another drum loop. The band starts jamming out sporadically on this track and I took the opportunity to look up who the hell Ben Vaughn is and why he was important enough to warrant Chilton and Vega wanting to record an album with him.  Vaughn was in a band that toured the U.S. several times called the Ben Vaughn Combo, he went solo in ’88 and recorded critically acclaimed albums, toured those albums and eventually made the record Cubist Blues. Vaughn’s wikipedia was basically a snooze-fest until I read that he recorded the Third Rock from the Sun theme song,  and the Big Star cover of “In the Street” for That 70’s Show. My biggest takeaway from listening to this album is going to be that I can share this fun fact with my friend Carl;  I know no one else gives a shit about Ben Vaughn.

Do Not Do Not: Another sloppy mess that snowballs. There are points on this song and parts of this album that sound like a blues band chose their slowest song and then all swapped instruments, they don’t last for long but these moments do show up pretty regularly on Cubist Blues.

The Werewolf: The synth is dialed into the classic Suicide tone and Vega sings about a Werewolf driving in a jeep. I don’t know if it’s because it’s  what suited Vega’s voice best, or his comfortability level, but when the root of the song is a looping drum and a looping keyboard line, everything clicks. I get lost in these songs (Werewolf, Freedom, Promised Land) and I am reminded of why I enjoy the first Suicide album.

Dream Baby Revisited: The final track on Cubist Blues sounds like a final track on an album. A drunken swaying goodbye that quickly fades out just as it sounds like it’s about to pick up.

Rating: 5/10

Favorites: Freedom, Candyman, Promised Land

Upon first listen, the debut album by The Damned seemed to fall in a category of bands that an old roommate of mine was drawn to. Bands who incorporate fast, hot guitar leads over straightforward, unpolished rock’n’roll songs with some blasé lyrics about going out, having your heart broken or feeling like you don’t fit in. Guys wearing striped t-shirts and black jeans who idolize Johnny Thunders always come to mind when I picture fans of this genre because that is the type of guy my roommate was. Trying to remove any predisposed bias I might have towards The Damned, I listened to the album three times over a couple of days. 

Damned, Damned, Damned starts with “Neat, Neat, Neat” a perfect verse/chorus punk song that would be an excellent blueprint for any budding punk band with an interest in writing a hooky, lean, explosive crowdpleaser. The Damned manage to trim all excess fat from the album opener, creating a raw energy which propels the song forward. I liked that the band managed to keep the murky break following the guitar solo halfway through the track. The momentary release allows for the band to build things back up and cruise through a final fiery chorus, allowing the roadrunner-esque “neat, neat, neat,” to remain stuck in your head as the album proceeds. Wikipedia mentions that Stiff Records released this as the Damned’s second single and I was very surprised to see it was not their first. I’ve noticed, more and more, when I discover fast, older, catchy, enjoyable rock’n’roll or power pop Stiff is usually somehow connected to it. Stuff like this, and even this perfect record. 

At 14 tracks and clocking in at 33 minutes Damned, Damned, Damned manages to explore more styles than I realized upon first listen. The gloomy film noir-like “Feel the Pain,” doesn’t sound like the aggressive  “Stab Your Back” which comes as a surprise with its repetitive, pounding punk structure and brevity (this song also bookends the album instrumentally, and is titled “Singalongascabies” - the B-Side to the single “Neat, Neat, Neat”). The garage rock of “New Rose,” reminds me of Love AND the Exploding Hearts which has to mean something. The drumming on this album is what I found most impressive, and is most apparent on songs like “New Rose” and “1 of 2″. The guitarist on the other hand seems to gratuitously pepper songs with leads that some songs could do without. This takes away from the tight, smart structures found on “Neat, Neat, Neat” and the only guitar-work I thought stood out was on the album opener, “Fan Club” and in the call and response chords of “1 of 2″.

The more I listen to the album the more I lean into the songs that initially pulled me in, and further away from the songs that didn’t. I don’t think they needed to add a quick, tasteless cover of “Help” by the Beatles. I don’t think they needed the flashy, 90-mile an hour guitar leads shoved into parts of songs because the singer isn’t singing. I do think The Damned managed to write some refreshingly catchy, rock’n’roll songs without sacrificing their edge and falling into the bubblegum rock territory of The Ramones. Though certain tracks on the album pack a punch, The Damned never quite venture into the aggressive, masculine sound owned by The Stooges. 

I could see the Damned being an extremely entertaining, captivating live band and see this debut as an album that did an effective job of capturing their live energy in a raw fashion without the studio production leaving them with an album that sounds too polished. For this reason, Damned, Damned, Damned seems like an album you buy after seeing the band play. I don’t see Damned, Damned, Damned being much of a start to finish turntable album but I was wrong for thinking it was going to be a bland, half hour foray into speedy, syndicated rock’n’roll. 

Rating: 6/10