TV Obsessive
Paul Weller- Stanley Road
by Chris Flackett
Having fell out of critical and commercial favour from the late ‘80s to the early ‘90s, Paul Weller was riding a fresh wave of success off the back of his 1993 album, Wild Wood. That album had seen him reconcile the mod-rock of his Jam days with the love of soul and groove that essentially drove The Style Council by landing on a rootsy, earthy sound indebted to late ‘60s and early ‘70s British rhythm and blues.
Stanley Road consolidated this approach, but it traded the lighter touch and summery hues of Wild Wood for chunkier, gruff guitar sounds and chugging riffs that took their own sweet time and would not be rushed for anyone.
Needless to say, such dense, airless, rootsy “authenticity” could make for a dry, occasionally claustrophobic listen. Weller at the time supposedly saw himself working in the same lineage as Traffic, Neil Young and Van Morrison. Unfortunately, at points on Stanley Road, Weller and his songs come across more like Joe Cocker which, pardon my snobbery, is not a compliment in any way, shape or form.
It’s not all doom and gloom, however; “The Changingman” repurposes ELO’s “10538 Overture” into a muscular discourse on uncertainty and the need to reinvent oneself; “Out of the Sinking” gives the great English mod love song a sun-kist, Small Faces feel; and “Wings of Speed,” inspired by Weller’s feelings looking at John Waterhouse’s painting The Lady of Shallot, is a gorgeous, vulnerable piano ballad, where several multi-tracked vocals from guest singer Carleen Anderson announced themselves in the middle of the song in stunning fashion.
Stanley Road entered the charts at No.1 and although it only held pole position for one week, it hung around in the UK top 30 for over a year, no mean feat. It was also the first record of Weller’s, outside of compilations, to reach platinum status.
So, while maybe not the most artistically interesting or worthwhile record in Weller’s catalogue (I’m a Paul Weller, Wild Wood, Wake Up the Nation & Sonik Kicks man myself), it’s a very, very successful album that still has a large place in the hearts of Weller’s audience, and perhaps encapsulates a period in British pop where audience demand for updated classic British guitar pop sounds from the ‘60s and ‘70s was once again substantial and commercially viable. Not bad for an album its maker initially wanted to call S**t or Bust.
Primus- Tales From The Punchbowl
by Michael DiFabio
On Saturday, May 27, 1995, I walked side by side with my friends at our high school commencement. A couple of weeks later, I picked the fourth studio album by Primus, Tales from the Punchbowl. The album had been released the Tuesday before and I was able to pick up a CD that Wednesday. For me, this album solidified Primus within the genre of Prog Rock, though Primus is really just, Primus. There is no pinning them down, no single label that defines them. Fast forward to Nov. 3, 2017, my fiance and I went to see Primus at the Taft Theater in Cincinnati. The tour was promoting their latest album, The Desaturating Seven, about goblins seeking to consume the colors of the rainbow. (Classic insanity from Primus). Their latest album, which has an accompanying children’s book, is heavy with chromatic imagery adhering closely to the story book.
Tales from the Punchbowl was certified Gold a month after its release. With extremely humor-focused lyrical content which diverges into some dark places, the album stands the test of time. “Professor Nutbutter’s House of Treats” kicks off the album and clocks in as the longest track. The track starts with a soft beginning of a carnival-type tune, shifting into a driving bass line that permeates throughout. I feel like this track mirrors the album progression as well; I remember thinking, “Who starts an album like this?” then immediately, “Primus does!”
The second track, “Mrs. Baileen,” begins with a wicked, funky moving bass line and Les Claypool spins a yarn about a sixth grade teacher and a chastised young man named Donny. It takes a dark turn and Donny gives his fishing knife to his father and says, “I think I hurt Steve.” Dark indeed.
The third track is the highest charting song of Primus’ career, “Wynona’s Big Brown Beaver,” which has always seemed hilarious and totally countercultural to me. With the heehaw intro over the slapping bass line, the song descends into lyrical absurdity and tonal madness with jamming breakdowns, then finally proclaiming that “Wynona loved her big brown Beaver and she stroked it all the time, she pricked her finger one day and it occurred to her that she might have a porcupine.” While the song is the only regularly played single from this album, and still is in regular circulation on alternative radio, the next track, “Southbound Pachyderm,” has become a Primus concert favorite. A song about global warming and experimental doctors, the time and rhythm is perfect for extended improvisation and always was great to hear live. At the Taft show in 2017, the encore was a 28+ minute version of “Pachyderm.” Wow.
“Space Farm” stands out to me since it is an instrumental track heavy in improv, back beats, band members imitating various farm animals, and intricate guitar work. Another change of pace is “De Anza Jig.” This tune, in true Primus fashion, moves to a banjo laden tune identifying specific women and their various idiosyncracies. “On the Tweek Again” clearly harkens back to Claypool’s youth and the devastation of methamphetamine upon his friends and family. Ups, downs, sandwiches, beavers, knives. What else could someone want from an album?! As the album ends with “Captain Shiner,” a reprise of the carnival tune leads to a fade out and seemingly restarting the album after coming full circle.
Tales from the Punchbowl leads one to imagine being immersed in a hokey roadside freakshow, and, in a lot of ways, that is what Primus taught me over the years. We all have a little freak inside of us and it is okay to let it out sometimes. To hell with what other people think, be you and have fun!
