Great Fucking Albums #21: Grace

On my recent trip to Death Valley, we had a sort of unspoken policy of letting albums cycle through about two-and-a-half to three times before we changed the disc. You do a lot of driving getting around a national park that size, and we were more diligent about our conversation (and which sites we were going to see next; my friend Marlayna has a passion for national parks and she attacks them with an almost ruthless efficiency. Whereas I would’ve wandered the park aimlessly, slack-jawed and mumbling about the “goddamn bigitude” of the place, Marlayna mapped out the best way for us to see the most interesting bits of the park in the two days we had) than we were in making sure each album only went round once. This policy worked out pretty well, though, because we got to spend some quality time with some great albums, not the least of which was Jeff Buckley’s 1994 debut/masterpiece/final album Grace.

I’ve mentioned at least once how I first encountered Jeff Buckley’s music – a great friend of mine put “Grace” and “Last Goodbye” on a mixtape (a real cassette mixtape) when I was in college. That mixtape led me to purchase Grace and both the mixtape (which also featured Radiohead’s “Thinking About You” and “Henry Lee” by PJ Harvey and Nick Cave, among many other gems) and Buckley’s album got me through some pretty lonely times. Sadly, I don’t have the cassette anymore, but I do still have my copy of Grace and its only gotten better with time.

Buckley’s voice, high and keening, was perfectly suited to these ten tracks, and he completely owned two well-known covers on Grace as well. The best-known is, of course, Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.” Buckley actually based his arrangement of the song off of the one the Velvet Underground’s John Cale did for I’m Your Fan, a Leonard Cohen tribute album that also featured the Pixies, Nick Cave, and R.E.M.. Cale’s arrangement is lovely, but if you hear Buckley’s version and don’t think it’s the definitive one, you’ve probably got bubble gum stuck in your ears. The other famous cover on Grace is James Chilton’s “Lilac Wine”, which was made famous by Nina Simone. Here again, Buckley makes the song his in a way that should scare all sensible people away from attempting to cover it (if you don’t know better than to cover “Hallelujah” at this point, you probably also think it’s okay to cover “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and I don’t think I can help you).

Of the seven originals that grace…um… Grace (the other cover is “Corpus Christi Carol”, which is credited to Benjamin Britten in Grace‘s liner notes), it’s pretty awesome to think of these songs appearing in 1994. Nothing sounded like “Grace” back then. Soundgarden’s Chris Cornell was kind of close, but he was more heavy metal when Buckley was more… what? Blues? Folk? Soul? These songs are essentially rock songs, but they have little in common with the better-known tunes of 1994 (fun fact: Tesla’s Bust a Nut was released the same day as Grace). This was the year of Stone Temple Pilots’ Purple, Green Day’s Dookie, Pavement’s Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, and Nine Inch Nails’ The Downward Spiral (oh, and Yanni’s Live at the Acropolis. Thank you, Wikipedia).  And then there was Grace, part soul, part rock, part blues, and all beautiful. It shouldn’t surprise you to you find that the album was met with early critical acclaim but little commercial success when it was released (the kids were too busy buying that Green Day record with all the turds on the cover). It takes time to recognize something as monumental as Grace and, maybe, just a little bit of tragedy too. People love to examine the record catalogues of the dead (I’ll admit that I didn’t find out about Chris Whitley until after he died in 2005) and Buckley’s drowning in the Wolf River in 1997 may have been an unfortunate catalyst to many people’s discovery of his music (best song written about Buckley’s death: “Grey Ghost” by Mike Doughty).

However you find Grace, you should fucking find it. It’s as cohesive and wonderful a set of ten songs as you are likely to find on record. If you listen to, say, Dookie now, it will sound unmistakably 90s, for better or worse (in that case, for worse). Grace, though, sounds fresh and unique in any decade. Buckley’s voice is matched by some extremely tight guitar playing, and his rhythm section (Mick Grondahl on bass and Matt Johnson on drums) is more than up to the challenge of playing behind such virtuosity. I can’t help but wonder if Robert Plant, upon hearing songs like “Last Goodbye” was forced to stop for a minute and realize, “That’s what I should’ve been going for all these years.” If he didn’t, he fucking well should have.

Thematically, Grace is almost eerily fitting for a dude who died young – on the title track, Buckley even sings, “And I feel them drown my name” and “Lilac Wine”, of course, is madness teetering on the edge of death. “Eternal Life” is a fiery rocker that scoffs a mighty scoff at the “twisted hell” of a “racist everyman.” The song, like all of Grace, is forceful, mournful, and hauntingly beautiful. Take note, however: this album was all that stuff before Buckley’s untimely death, so I’m not gonna sit here and speculate that the dude knew he was gonna die (well, okay, he knew he was gonna die eventually, obviously, but I’m not gonna project some kind of mystical bullshit on Grace because Buckley died three years after its release – the album and the man both deserve better).

There are plenty of albums I’ve owned in my life that have steered me through some dark times (Wilco’s Summerteeth, Bob Dylan’s Blood On the Tracks, and most of Tom Waits’s stuff) and the best of those have something to offer me during my happy times as well. Though I once found solace in the sweeping loneliness of Grace, I can go back to it now as a happily married, pretty well adjusted (I think) dude and appreciate the sheer beauty of the music. Jeff Buckley was a truly unique musical talent and while it’s a goddamn shame that Grace is the only complete album he ever released (Sketches for My Sweetheart the Drunk was released posthumously, containing demos for what would’ve been Buckley’s second album), I am personally extremely grateful to at least have this one. So pour yourself a glass of lilac wine (I guess you have to make it yourself – let me know how that goes, if you try it) and give Grace a listen. If you find, afterwards, that you prefer Green Day’s Dookie to Jeff Buckley’s masterpiece, do us all a favor: stick your head in the toilet and flush.

I Didn’t Fight the Law and We Both Won

I recently rejoined E-Music, after having canceled my subscription out of frustration with their utter lack of selection. When I canceled, probably two years ago now, they were trumpeting their selection of Rolling Stones albums but telling me I couldn’t get Band of Horses because Sub-Pop was a subsidiary of some major label. I have always supported E-Music’s desire to forefront “independent” artists but I figured since they were pushing a band that has, in my lifetime, become the biggest rock whores since Kiss (if I’ve alienated any Kiss fans by making that statement, um, good. Fuck Kiss. Also, I’m not impugning the Rolling Stones’ work prior to 1980, but I defy you to name one – or even half of one – good album they’ve made since then. And if you say A Bigger Bang, I will find you. And I will hurt you*), they might also decide to carry a band that doesn’t get much mainstream attention. However, E-Music has recently expanded their selection (they even have Sub-Pop now, but Band of Horses is no longer with the label) and wooed me back and I’m happy to report that I am ecstatic with their service thus far.

One big reason I’m re-smitten with E-Music is that I frequently log on to find a new release that I didn’t know was coming (it happens, kids. I’m just a guy in a tiny apartment, trying to figure out what to listen to). One day, not too long ago, I found a new release by former Delgados vocalist Emma Pollock. I nearly jumped out of my chair with giddy excitement. I literally couldn’t hit the “Download Album” button fast enough. I nearly sent a gooey, gushy thank-you email to E-Music, just for having The Law of Large Numbers on their front page when I woke up that Sunday morning. Because I love Emma Pollock and the Delgados that much.

See, there are two groups of people I am honor-bound to support: former Firefly cast members (even if they’re on  shows as fuck-terrible as V and Terminator: The Not Enough Summer Glau Chronicles) and former Delgados. I have said, time and time again that the Delgados were one of the most underrated bands of all time and I have made it a prime directive of the Bollocks! organization** to alert the world to the necessity of a Delgados reunion (and U.S. tour). Supporting Firefly refugees has been a mixed bag; I enjoy Castle and Chuck, but I believe I’ve made my feelings clear about the alien show and the robots-from-the-future show. Supporting former Delgados has been better – I like the debut solo albums from Emma Pollock and Alun Woodward (Watch the Fireworks and Lord Cut-Glass, respectively), both of which featured Pollock’s husband (and fellow former Delgado) Paul Savage on drums. But both of those albums caused me to think, “Imagine how awesome that would be with the other Delgados  on it!”

While nothing will ever entirely put to bed my very public (and possibly disturbing) desire to see a Delgados reunion (and U.S. tour, dammit!), Emma Pollock’s latest, The Law of Large Numbers, has finally quieted me down a bit on the topic (though you might not know it from the first few paragraphs of this post). I am, in fact, now forced to eat my words, uttered in my review of Woodward’s Lord Cut-Glass, that “I hope Emma Pollock abandons work on her new album” (I uttered those words hoping to foment a Delgados reunion. I honestly hope Pollock continues making music, in whatever capacity, forever and ever. Amen) I think I can say, without fear of contradiction, that The Law of Large Numbers is the best album involving a Delgado since their 2002 masterpiece, Hate. Pollock has really stepped out on her own with this album, fearlessly blending musical styles and sonic approaches into ten tracks (the album is bookended by instrumentals, both called “Hug the Piano”) that are spirited, fun, and fucking beautiful.

Don’t get me wrong – Delgados fans won’t be alienated by The Law of Large Numbers; there are even a couple of tracks that sound like logical steps from Universal Audio. But any fan of the Delgados, who follows my policy of supporting them in their post-band (and pre-reunion) efforts will be encouraged by the versatility and confidence that Emma Pollock displays on this album.

Though the album feels like it was largely written on piano (and there are great piano tracks here, like “House on the Hill”), it’s Pollock’s voice that will command all of your attention. She is mournful (“House on the Hill”), mocking (“Nine Lives”), coy (“Confessions”) and flirtatious (“The Loop”, which is built almost entirely around Pollock’s voice and is a three and a half minute argument for Why You Need This Album). Many of the tracks feature harmonies (some of which, I believe, are Pollock harmonizing with herself) that augment the complex, indelible melodies without overpowering them. There is a sense of balance on The Law of Large Numbers that was not as evident to me on Watch the Fireworks.

The Law of Large Numbers, like Hate, is an album that seems to never stop rewarding repeated listens. Call it the Law of Never-Diminishing Returns. Every time I listen to The Law of Large Numbers, I find something else to like about it. As I write this, I’m listening to the album and am struck by the little background elements (vocal parts, hand claps, chimes and bells, distorted guitars, et cetera) that add a perfect texture to these songs; when Pollock needs to drives something home, the background elements drop out and you’re left with her voice and maybe a piano. The Law of Large Numbers is a clean, shiny, pop/rock album that manages to never feel overproduced, despite its abundance of musical ideas.

So even if the Delgados never get back together (they’ll get back together), Emma Pollock has given us a lot to be grateful for with The Law of Large Numbers. Now if we can just get her to play some shows in the United States (her website is listing some shows ’round the U.K., but none over here). I’ve got an idea. Listen to The Law of Large Numbers and if (if? when) you love it as much as I do, help me start a grassroots movement to fund an Emma Pollock tour of the U.S. We can take donations, try to find sponsors, whatever it takes. Fuck those illiterate teabaggers, let’s start a movement that will actually do something positive for our country. I bet we can even spell our signs correctly.

*Although it is said that a comedian is someone who knows a good joke when he steals one, I’m going to give credit for that line to Lewis Black, because he said it first and because I’m pretty sure that, despite my apparent advantages of youth, energy, and speed, he could still kick my ass.

** We’re totally not an organization.