Gordon Gano & the Ryans
Under the Sun
(Yep Roc, 2009)
In case you were holding your breath and waiting for a Violent Femmes reunion, it’s now official: “Violent Femmes are over.” Gordon Gano says so himself in the press kit for Under the Sun, his collaboration with former Bogmen the Ryan Brothers. One can imagine him feeling a combination of relief and sadness. With no possible Violent Femmes albums in the offing, perhaps folks (and critics) will start dealing with him as a solo artist. Perhaps. The Velvet Underground still haunts Lou Reed, Mott the Hoople still colors people’s perceptions of Ian Hunter, and McCartney’s post-Beatle offerings will always be compared to his earlier work, so Gano has a way to go before people will start evaluating his new songs on their own merits.
Gano’s first solo album, 2002’s Hitting the Ground, featured Frank Black, They Might Be Giants, PJ Harvey, John Cale, Lou Reed, and others singing Gano songs that ranged between brilliant, embarrassing, and mundane. Under the Sun is more cohesive, mostly avoiding the quirks and vocal twitches that were part of the Violent Femmes’ sound. Which is good. Gano sounds like an adult here. When he sings a heartbreaking song, there’s no ironic distance between his vocals and the feeling he’s describing. The results are mixed, but that was true (here comes a comparison) with every Violent Femmes album, except their debut. But the past is hard to put to rest and the album’s most energetic tracks—“Way That I Creep” and “Red”—are Violent Femmes knock-offs. “Way That I Creep” tips its hat to the Trashmen with its driving garage/surf-meets-psychobilly beat. Breakneck guitar, bass, drum, and piano rhythms are mixed into a delirious AM radio mush, with Gano’s staccato vocals acting like another rhythm instrument. The lyrics are unintelligible, something about “stickin’ and a lickin’,” but it’s a perfect two minutes of insane rock ‘n’ roll.
“Red” rides that old Violent Femmes hesitating backbeat with Gano’s familiar electric guitar stabs adding to the retro feel. The lyrics are a variation of the folk rhyme: “My mother and your mother were hanging out clothes / My mother gave your mother a punch in the nose.” The manic drumming by Frank Ferrer and the gargled background vocals of the Ryans push the track along, an adrenaline-fueled blast of primitive rock, with more nonsensical rhymes. Gano’s use of obvious and clichéd rhymes is evident on several tunes here and detracts from the album’s overall impact. Even his B-level tunes used to have meaty lyrics. Even when he wasn’t making sense, he sounded deep. Under the Sun often borders on high school doggerel; sometimes the rhymes don’t detract from the songs, but on “Judge to Widow” and “Better Than You Know”, they just sound lazy.
On the positive side, several songs here are as good as any Gano’s ever written. The music the Ryans have crafted with Gano range all over the pop map, and he delivers some of his most straightforward writing and singing. “Here as a Guest”, possibly the album’s best song, breaks new musical and emotional ground for Gano. It’s a dark tango with hints of gospel and ’30s German cabaret music in the sinister arrangement. Revolving around hardship and mortality, Gano’s disconsolate lyrics keep the obvious rhymes from diluting the song’s power. “Oholah Oholibah” is another stretch with a vaudevillian feel and tinges of Eastern European Gypsy music and klezmer in the melody. The lyric is full of Gano’s wise guy humor and based partially (he explains in the song) on the Old Testament Book of Ezekiel, Chapter 23. “Home” is a twang-heavy country/folk ballad dealing with the familiar theme of a poor boy returning home after getting knocked around in the big city. Gano’s aching growl complements the song’s brooding aura. Love gone wrong is the subject of “Under the Sun”, a quiet, wrenching piano ballad that may be the most subdued tune Gano’s ever given us. It’s based on a simple ’50s rock progression, but Brendan Ryan’s stately piano makes it sound like a classic pop lament. The last verse is a killer, full of tension and drama. The other piano ballad, “Still Suddenly Here”, sounds like a ’40s pop tune as arranged by the Beatles, but shifts into an indie-rock-meets-reggae skank for the bridge/chorus. Gano sings the tune with an odd phrasing, breaking the lines up with unexpected pauses. It’s an anguished vocal, without the sarcasm and attitude he used to employ to distance himself from the pain.
The other tunes are “Man in the Sand”, a decent summertime song with a brief rock guitar solo and a powerful surf backbeat from Ferrer. “Hired Gun” is an almost happy song with sappy rhymes and a country music feel, and then there’s two Talking Heads-style tracks, “Wave and Water” and “Better Than You Know.” In the Bogmen, the Ryan Brothers used to do a lot of Talking Heads take-offs, and these are fine as far as they go, but why bother? The Violent Femmes, and by extension, Gano, had their (his) own quirky thing going, maybe in the same neurotic arena as Byrne and company, but completely their own. Referencing the Talking Heads on one track might have been fun, but twice is too much and again comes off as less than inventive.
Listen: Various Tracks [at myspace.com]
Tags: Gordon Gano and the Ryans, Under the Sun, Yep Roc, Violent Femmes
Read more articles like this:
The Switchback: Add It Up: Angst in the Music of Violent Femmes and Langhorne Slim
Classic Vantage: Shopping For Vinyl With Paul Williams
Origin of Song: Like a Circle in a Spiral, Like a Song Within a Song
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Gordon Gano & the Ryans
by: j. poet
Under the Sun
(Yep Roc, 2009)
In case you were holding your breath and waiting for a Violent Femmes reunion, it’s now official: “Violent Femmes are over.” Gordon Gano says so himself in the press kit for Under the Sun, his collaboration with former Bogmen the Ryan Brothers. One can imagine him feeling a combination of relief and sadness. With no possible Violent Femmes albums in the offing, perhaps folks (and critics) will start dealing with him as a solo artist. Perhaps. The Velvet Underground still haunts Lou Reed, Mott the Hoople still colors people’s perceptions of Ian Hunter, and McCartney’s post-Beatle offerings will always be compared to his earlier work, so Gano has a way to go before people will start evaluating his new songs on their own merits.
Gano’s first solo album, 2002’s Hitting the Ground, featured Frank Black, They Might Be Giants, PJ Harvey, John Cale, Lou Reed, and others singing Gano songs that ranged between brilliant, embarrassing, and mundane. Under the Sun is more cohesive, mostly avoiding the quirks and vocal twitches that were part of the Violent Femmes’ sound. Which is good. Gano sounds like an adult here. When he sings a heartbreaking song, there’s no ironic distance between his vocals and the feeling he’s describing. The results are mixed, but that was true (here comes a comparison) with every Violent Femmes album, except their debut. But the past is hard to put to rest and the album’s most energetic tracks—“Way That I Creep” and “Red”—are Violent Femmes knock-offs. “Way That I Creep” tips its hat to the Trashmen with its driving garage/surf-meets-psychobilly beat. Breakneck guitar, bass, drum, and piano rhythms are mixed into a delirious AM radio mush, with Gano’s staccato vocals acting like another rhythm instrument. The lyrics are unintelligible, something about “stickin’ and a lickin’,” but it’s a perfect two minutes of insane rock ‘n’ roll.
“Red” rides that old Violent Femmes hesitating backbeat with Gano’s familiar electric guitar stabs adding to the retro feel. The lyrics are a variation of the folk rhyme: “My mother and your mother were hanging out clothes / My mother gave your mother a punch in the nose.” The manic drumming by Frank Ferrer and the gargled background vocals of the Ryans push the track along, an adrenaline-fueled blast of primitive rock, with more nonsensical rhymes. Gano’s use of obvious and clichéd rhymes is evident on several tunes here and detracts from the album’s overall impact. Even his B-level tunes used to have meaty lyrics. Even when he wasn’t making sense, he sounded deep. Under the Sun often borders on high school doggerel; sometimes the rhymes don’t detract from the songs, but on “Judge to Widow” and “Better Than You Know”, they just sound lazy.
On the positive side, several songs here are as good as any Gano’s ever written. The music the Ryans have crafted with Gano range all over the pop map, and he delivers some of his most straightforward writing and singing. “Here as a Guest”, possibly the album’s best song, breaks new musical and emotional ground for Gano. It’s a dark tango with hints of gospel and ’30s German cabaret music in the sinister arrangement. Revolving around hardship and mortality, Gano’s disconsolate lyrics keep the obvious rhymes from diluting the song’s power. “Oholah Oholibah” is another stretch with a vaudevillian feel and tinges of Eastern European Gypsy music and klezmer in the melody. The lyric is full of Gano’s wise guy humor and based partially (he explains in the song) on the Old Testament Book of Ezekiel, Chapter 23. “Home” is a twang-heavy country/folk ballad dealing with the familiar theme of a poor boy returning home after getting knocked around in the big city. Gano’s aching growl complements the song’s brooding aura. Love gone wrong is the subject of “Under the Sun”, a quiet, wrenching piano ballad that may be the most subdued tune Gano’s ever given us. It’s based on a simple ’50s rock progression, but Brendan Ryan’s stately piano makes it sound like a classic pop lament. The last verse is a killer, full of tension and drama. The other piano ballad, “Still Suddenly Here”, sounds like a ’40s pop tune as arranged by the Beatles, but shifts into an indie-rock-meets-reggae skank for the bridge/chorus. Gano sings the tune with an odd phrasing, breaking the lines up with unexpected pauses. It’s an anguished vocal, without the sarcasm and attitude he used to employ to distance himself from the pain.
The other tunes are “Man in the Sand”, a decent summertime song with a brief rock guitar solo and a powerful surf backbeat from Ferrer. “Hired Gun” is an almost happy song with sappy rhymes and a country music feel, and then there’s two Talking Heads-style tracks, “Wave and Water” and “Better Than You Know.” In the Bogmen, the Ryan Brothers used to do a lot of Talking Heads take-offs, and these are fine as far as they go, but why bother? The Violent Femmes, and by extension, Gano, had their (his) own quirky thing going, maybe in the same neurotic arena as Byrne and company, but completely their own. Referencing the Talking Heads on one track might have been fun, but twice is too much and again comes off as less than inventive.
Listen: Various Tracks [at myspace.com]
Tags: Gordon Gano and the Ryans, Under the Sun, Yep Roc, Violent Femmes
Read more articles like this:
The Switchback: Add It Up: Angst in the Music of Violent Femmes and Langhorne Slim
Classic Vantage: Shopping For Vinyl With Paul Williams
Origin of Song: Like a Circle in a Spiral, Like a Song Within a Song
by: j. poet
published: September 17, 2009
in column: Reviews
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