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Fugazi: The Argument
Fugazi
The Argument
(Dischord, 2001)
As a Fugazi fan it’s always troubled me that, to a certain extent, they are known more for their DIY ethics and noble deeds then the fact they’ve put out some of the most remarkable and relevant music in the last 20 years. Relevance. I shouldn’t even be using that word, because it’s just lending credence to the point I’m trying to make. People talk more about the band being important to music then their actual music.
It’s nice to spew out those little Fugazi facts that portray them as gods of the post-hardcore underworld, like how Ian MacKaye has refused to let concert tickets sell for over $5, or how they have never considered signing with a major record label. I’m not trying to downplay those stances; on the contrary, it is tremendously noble in an industry of charlatans posing as hardcore, and it’s important that we are aware of their aggressive refusal of compromise.
However, that’s the last time you’ll hear me bring up their faultless ideals, at least for the duration of this piece (I make no promises if we’re ever out drinking and their name comes up). No, I want to focus on the music Fugazi recorded, specifically their last album, The Argument, and why this is a record that should be considered one of the best of the past decade.
Ministry: Dark Side of the Spoon
Ministry
Dark Side of the Spoon
(Warner, 1999)
Every so often an album emerges that works ridiculously well based solely on the fact that its merits are pretty much impossible to define. That is to say, its intrinsic worth is not calculable, has no numerical value on a traditional rating scale. Typically, these are the albums that divide the shit out of a fanbase, and end up sticking out like a sore thumb from the band’s catalogue. They might surface as a result of some newfound (and usually ill-advised) experimentation the band feels necessary to bolster their artistic cred, or perhaps surfaces due to a new production team intent on reinventing the band’s sound (usually just so the producer can get their name on the map). It’s really tough to say how or why these albums do get put out, but in the case of Ministry’s Dark Side of the Spoon, we can determine the root cause behind this insanely twisted record is rampant drug use during the entire recording.
If you think it’s presumptuous for me to speculate drug abuse as that which spurred a record emulating complete bedlam that, at times, seems like deliberate anachronisms are planted throughout, then you should know that I’m not assuming anything. Al Jourgensen owned up to the scag buffet the band was consuming throughout the creation of DSOTS, admitting he doesn’t remember making any of it. And really, for all intents and purposes, Jourgensen is Ministry, so it’s a good guess any Ministry release is essentially a reflection of whatever state of mind he happened to be in at the time of making it. Add in the fact that their touring guitarist William Tucker took his own life just prior to the recording sessions, and you have a train wreck of an album waiting to happen.
Hall of Fame My Ass
Prior to writing this article, I spent a great deal of time fussing over how exactly to describe what it was I felt while meandering through the Holy Walls of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Museum, located in Cleveland, Ohio. See, many of you may not have had the opportunity to enter this hallowed sanctum, and it is very important to me that I perfectly articulate how the ghosts of music’s past entered my soul and made a beeline for my wallet. The only problem is standard depiction wouldn’t be sufficient, since it wouldn’t adequately express an institution of such magnificent divinity. So I’ll refer to a scene in the Alexander Payne-directed 2004 movie, Sideways.
In an attempt to cheer up his friend Myles, a rabid wine connoisseur (and also a perpetual failure), Jack takes him to a heavily-populated, tourist-oriented vineyard that essentially focuses on catering to the lowest-common denominator, towards anyone who enjoys the taste of wine a few times a year, read about the vineyard in a pamphlet, and still can’t understand why you just don’t chill pinot noir. Of course, the samples tasted fine to Jack, but here’s what Myles had to say when he tried it:
“Tastes like the back of a fucking LA school bus. Now they probably didn’t de-stem, hoping for some semblance of concentration, crushed it up with leaves and mice, and then wound up with this rancid tar and turpentine mouthwash bullshit. Fucking raid.”
You could also say that I felt like Paul Westerberg in that Replacements song “Answering Machine”, where he’s just screaming into a phone with nobody on the other end.
A Night at the Opera, Featuring… Mr. Rodgers?
What’s in a name? Loaded question, but hey, Perry Farrell tried to answer it in a 1997 interview with Jim DeRogatis following Jane’s Addiction’s first reunion. Here, I’ll transcribe his answer; interpret it as you will (eating a small-to-medium handful of ’shrooms before reading it should improve the clarity immensely): “First of all, the answer to what is in a name has got no bounds. It’s eternally deep. I can tell you my name is Perry, or I can tell you my name is Porno, or I can tell you my name is Jane. What is in a name? But, at the same time, it also declares I’m not Jack or Jerry. The answer is boundless and as I say, profoundly deep.”
Don’t feel bad if you don’t really get what he’s saying here. It’s fairly safe to assume only Farrell himself really knows what sort of point he’s driving home, but it’s worth noting that if you wade through the muck of all that pretentiousness, you might find one valid point. Farrell mentions that if he is Jane, he is not Jack or Jerry. Now, maybe I’m looking too much into this, but I don’t think it’s any accident that the examples he uses there are the most generic names he could have possibly selected. Translation: if he’s not Jane’s Addiction, any other band he’s involved with might as well exist under a Tom, Dick, and Harry moniker, or to quote the names he used, Tom, Jack, and Jerry. He realizes that the name Jane’s Addiction now holds more power over any other band he may join; no matter how good or talented they might be, to everyone else it’s just a Joe Shmoe band that’s not Jane’s Addiction.
This all means that Farrell understands one pragmatic, aesthetic cog of rock ‘n’ roll: there is more to a name then just a mere label for shorthand reference purposes. Farrell may have the appearance of a drugged-out contemporary hippie, but don’t be deceived; he has more business savvy then he wants us to believe. The power of a name is not lost on him, both in a profound sense and a capitalistic one.
Massive Attack: 100th Window
by: Jeffrey Thiessen
100th Window
(Virgin, 2003)
“When did banality and mediocrity become a good image for our children?” -Bill Hicks
I think about this quote a lot when I consider the lukewarm reaction towards Massive Attack’s 100th Window, compared to a band like AC/DC making a career out of being the musical equivalent of Mack Bolan. It seems like innovation and genre-bending are being punished, while reverberation in the musical form of a sledgehammer to the face has been rewarded for about three decades now.
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by: Jeffrey Thiessen
published: December 3, 2008
in column: Ex Post Facto
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