Mister Loveless - Family Jewels
Mister Loveless - A Prison Break

First off - Hi, How are you? It's been a while. These blogs can be so strangely surreal and completely awesome at the same time. Getting email from some of my musical heros and other artists I've covered is one of the coolest perks I could have asked for. And beyond that, sometimes you get to hear from voices thought long in the past. When I made a passing remark about my first kiss, the other guilty partner in our middle school rite of passage actually found the post and wrote me a little email... and even posted a comment on the blog. (Which I'm about to hyperlink in one sentence.)

Back in May, I mentioned briefly my first musical phase involving the Beach Boys. I'm still a little unclear why I sought out Surf music or even more specifically the Beach Boys but surfing was definitely cool and I'm thinking one of my friends must have had a Beach Boys tape. And in thinking long and hard about the subject, I'm pretty sure I convinced Aaron to let me stay the night at his house just so I could listen to his tape some more. (And I think he said he had one more tape at home too... and maybe I could listen to that as well!)

Like most kids, he had a greatest hits compilation album. But some time later, I convinced my mom to let me buy a tape from the local Alpha-Beta. Tell a friend. (If that means nothing to you, it's because Ralph's later bought Alpha Beta and I never saw thier Richard Simmons-like spokesman again.)

I remember my dad taking exception to the little note on the cassette's cover: Due to time constraints, some songs from the original album may not be contained on this cassette. I remember he said, "I wonder what songs you don't get to hear." Or something to that effect. But I was a kid and didn't really have any clue about what an 'album' really was, in fact, I don't think I was really clear on the concept of what a band was either. In the fourth grade, at the peak of my Beach Boys infatuation I got to see them play live. You would think I would have been totally excited and amazed to get to see my idols live, but I remember being sort of bored. (Especially when Chicago was playing first.) I remember being more excited about seeing an Oldies cover band at the Pear Fair in Walnut Grove. I mostly recall being totally pissed that we had to walk around the fair and couldn't just stay and watch the band. I really remember that...I was super pissed. I don't think there's any way a 10 year old can rationally express that kind of resentment.

So a few weeks ago, I went ahead and bought the Beach Boy's first three albums. I think I have a fairly solid grasp on 'albums' and 'bands' now and I'd like to re-listen to these songs without having to resort to old, well-loved cassettes.

I may sound like a total moron here, but I had no idea the Beach Boys actually played surf-rock. I guess I always just thought they came up with their folk-inspired and surf-inspired music naturally in Southern California. But apparently the aging county fair mainstays started out recording versions of "Miserlou" and "Let's Go Tripping." I think maybe all the instrumentals got cut from the cassette versions. Somehow my whole vision of the band's early days has shifted. I started to wonder if the real surfers listened to instrumental stuff like Dick Dale and thought adding vocals was a mainstream, sell-out move.

Don't get me wrong, I think the Beach Boys vocal arrangements are true genius and no doubt molded my impressions beyond repair. (It's an easy segue from Beach Boys to The Queers, Screeching Weasel and all that pop-punk I love and have loved... and even to Essex Green or Mates of State.) But I was amazed how much the music had affected me as well. I didn't know in the fourth grade who played guitar or bass, or even who the lead vocals were on which song, but somehow the music still got through. After hearing "Surfin' Safari" and "Help Me Rhonda" thousands of times since, I actually listened to them. I'm still a sucker for that classic surf beat on "Surfin Safari" and that catchy little riff on "Help Me Rhonda."

So where does that leave me? Do I start attending touristy beach festivals and rocking out with a Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts? Thankfully, there's some folks out there who might just love surf music as much as I do but approach from a contemporary, underground-y perspective. Indebted as much to Fugazi and Joy Division as much as anything Southern California produced in the 60s, Mister Loveless, create a an amalgamation of sounds that just sounds ridiculous on paper. At first I was wary of a band claiming to be the missing link between surf-rock and post-punk. I didn't think there was such a link... nor really any need for one. But then I heard the music.

The X meets Y formula is such a shallow short-form, but it's hard to explain a band in terms everyone will understand and quick enough so you don't lose their attention. So maybe it's a perfect explanation for potential fans (and bloggers), but the music is much richer and sincere than a quick tagline description.

While more and more bands attempt to pull off some sort of Ian Curtis delivery with less and less sincerity and more and more empty style, Mister Loveless manage to capture what has endured Curtis for generations: the palpable desperation. That's a fellow human being delivering those vocals. I can relate to that isolation. And I'm not sure if I'm a good enough writer to explain how even the guitar tone and melodies manage to espouse some sentiment of alienation and anxiety. It doesn't sound like those dark, minor chords ala Nick Cave; the melodies are almost poppy. But there's a dark corner to even the most pleasing major scale, and Mister Loveless finds it, and dwells in it. And when they are working with a minor chord, dude, it gets dark and tense.

I may be doing the band a disservice making them seem so completely bleak. Don't forget the lingering elements of surf-rock I told you about earlier. The beats never leave you bored and shift from that classic 2-4 surf rhythm to a 16th note hi-hat disco attack to straight-ahead four-on-the-floor... and they never get showy, and never merely 'serve the song.' The unexpected beats elevate the band's sound into a new territory. Atop these drums strides languorous, desperate and oddly comforting guitar lines. And where so much surf gets mired in technicallity and reverb, Loveless remains human and accessible.

Beyond mimicking their favorite bands, or sounding like a band out of their time, or retro, Mister Loveless combines all the wrong elements in just the right way. The burn of isolation smells like today; the fumes are all too familiar. There is no second-degree emotion here, no sillouette of the dead past. Unfortunately this angst is all too 'of today.' Nowadays we can be isolated despite being connected to millions. It doesn't ache any less no matter how many friends I can add to MySpace. Looming on the horizon the big city beckons to a nation of centerless suburbanites. And how do we handle the day-to-day when a perfect tomorrow is only a freeway or interstate away?

That feels different than anything anyone could have felt ten, twenty, thirty years ago. We don't need anymore emotional rehashes of days gone by.

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