Let's just put this out there right now. This isn't going to be a typical, emotionally distanced, unbiased record review. There are some bands that hit you at just the right time, and in just the right way, that they become a part of who you are. For me, that band is The Hold Steady.
If someone (say, the President or something) were to put me in charge of the Fine-Art Capsule, where my main responsibility would be to gather the best of human artistic achievement and put it in a capsule we were going to give as a goodwill gesture to an invading alien race, "Boys and Girls in America" (with the song "Same Kooks" banished forever) would be one of the first items I picked. You probably wouldn't do the same. You'd probably go with The Beatles or Miles Davis or something -- and that's reasonable. I'm not trying to be logical here.
Reviewing a Hold Steady record would be like reviewing my Dad, or better yet, like reviewing the 27-year-old me, but in the emotional state of 10th-grade me. There's no possible way the reader is going to get an accurate summation.
So if you're reading this post in hopes of finding out whether or not you should purchase "Heaven is Whenever," I'm afraid it's going to be utterly useless. This post is going to focus more on my relationship with art and how I use it to better understand my life.
I put off listening to this record until the actual release date. Sure, I'd hear the various songs that trickled out to Pitchfork or the New York Times or whatever as they became available, but I refrained from acquiring the full record until May 4. I have no problems listening to leaked copies of anyone else's work, but I always wait patiently for The Hold Steady. Since this is the only band that actually makes me feel like a teenager, I feel like it's only right to approach the entire process of listening to them like it was 1998 -- back before files could be swapped anonymously and the only way you could hear a band's new album was to actually purchase it on release day.
I told you this wasn't going to be logical.
I knew there was no way "Heaven is Whenever" could possibly measure up to "Boys and Girls in America" or "Stay Positive." Oh, the pressure of unrealistic expectations. Those two records were as good as this band -- hell, any band -- is ever going to sound.
When the group emerged out of the ashes of Lifter Puller in the early part of the decade, it really didn't have any idea what it was trying to accomplish, other than "literate songs, rockin' guitars." On the debut "Almost Killed Me," you could tell they were onto something big, but the music hadn't quite caught up to Craig Finn's magnificent storytelling. There seemed to be next to no relationship between Finn's vocals and the rest of the band -- which was kinda neat, sorta.
The music started to catch up on "Separation Sunday," with songs like "Your Little Hoodrat Friend" having honest-to-goodness choruses and hooks to supplement Finn's incredible stories.
But there's no way I could've properly prepared myself for "Boys and Girls in America." I could spend 10,000 words writing about everything I love in this record, but in the interest of saving time, let's just go with the thumbnail sketch: It's everything I like about rock & roll.
"Stay Positive" was somehow almost as good. And when anything is this good and this distinctive, it's inevitably going to garner a lot of attention.
Obviously, I'm not the only one who loves this band. They're really huge now, and for good reason. They managed to make highly specific stories seem universal -- essentially, the purpose of any real art.
However, that success was going to present a band like The Hold Steady with some unforeseen challenges. This is a group that thrived on being the underdog, the unfashionable outcast. Their hard-edge sound was a direct response to all the dance-rock that was making it big in New York at the time, and the thoroughly dense wordplay and complex narratives chased away any troglodytes that "just wanted to fuckin' party, dude!"
So what can a band like The Hold Steady do when it's already won? The chaperones crowned them the king and the queen. Now what?
It didn't help matters when Franz Nicolay bid farewell in January. Nicolay joined the band in between "Separation Sunday" and "Boys and Girls in America" -- not coincidentally, the period in which The Hold Steady made that massive artistic leap forward. His dramatic, Springsteen-esque piano parts and that kickin' harmonica solo in "Southtown Girls" added unforgettable flourishes and provided Finn a much more colorful backdrop to tell his tales.
"Heaven is Whenever" desperately misses him.
It's not a bad record by any stretch. In fact, it's a damn good one, and one I'm sure to love even more the longer I sit with it. I've only given the thing four front-to-back spins, so what you're reading here is a first impression of what is no doubt a transitional album for a band at a MAJOR crossroads.
With that said, it doesn't seem as if the band is as, well, committed as it was in the past. And that's understandable. It's tough to commit when you don't really know quite where you're going.
"Heaven is Whenever" opens with a pretty ballsy move, kicking things off with a slide-guitar-driven ballad in "The Sweet Part of the City." The last two records came out swinging, with "Stuck Between Stations" and "Constructive Summer" setting the tone: We're The Hold Steady, and we're here to rock.
"The Sweet Part of the City" eases the listener into things, but it doesn't feel self-conscious. And, ultimately, the message is the same. Finn ends the song by repeating, "We like to play for you."
The next couple tracks, "Soft in the Center" and "The Weekenders" are typical straight-ahead Hold Steady rock, but the edges have been buffed clean. Instead of the big "whoa oh OH" moments that defined the previous albums, the backing vocals follow more of a "Oooo, Oooo" format. Pleasant, but this band is better than pleasant.
My favorite rocker in the collection is "Hurricane J" -- a bittersweet callback to the theme of the previous record (looking for something better, and having the courage to break bad habits) and quintessential Hold Steady.
On the downside, the clarinet solo midway through "Barely Breathing" is a big letdown -- not the solo itself, but how the instrument is awkwardly jammed into the mix, almost screaming to the listener "WE ARE TRYING NEW THINGS!" The only clarinet solo that has ever worked in indie rock was the jaunty bit in the second half of The National's "So Far Around the Bend." In addition, the closing track "A Slight Discomfort" overstays its welcome with a cacophonic outro it didn't earn. It's no "Slapped Actors," that's for damn sure.
Am I nitpicking? I really can't tell. I'm obviously willing to give this band a much longer leash than I would for just about anyone else. I know if anyone else tried that "Barely Breathing" clarinet mess, I'd give that the big, rubber FAIL stamp.
Seeing a band like The Hold Steady feel its way through this new phase of its career is inevitably going to be a rewarding experience. Especially when we know there's still brilliance lurking beneath the growing pains.
The record's centerpiece is a tune called "We Can Get Together." It's among my personal musical highlights of 2010 (alongside "Excuses" by The Morning Benders, "World Sick" by Broken Social Scene, "All I Want" by LCD Soundsystem and "The Loneliness" by Frightened Rabbit). It's self-referential, deeply personal, and completely right about everything.
I love The Hold Steady. That will never change. Heaven is whenever we can get together, sit down on the floor and listen to their records.
Verdict: It's nearly impossible to feel comfortable in your own skin when everyone is staring at you.
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