Grandaddy
- Sumday - V2
Jason Lytle was adopted by fans (count me in) of 2000s The Sophtware
Slump as the bard-champion of the flesh-and-blood resistance to the ever-encroaching
mechs n techs. At the time, I thought this was a bit hyperbolic that
album was actually far more interesting than that summary implies but,
for Sumday its as if hes decided that, if thats
what they want, thats what theyll get, even if he doesnt quite
get it himself.
So heres the result the soundtrack to The Terminator v The Tellytubbies.
Bland? Nah, its good enough, if you dont mind sitting through half-an-hour
(7 tracks!) of listening to someone chew gum before finally lifting himself
off the couch and remembering that theres work to be done. I mean, theres
actually more interest in the quirky Jason-as-producer tinkerings with the preludes
and the postludes than in the songs themselves. Again and again theres
the germ of an interesting musical idea, then duff-ta duff-duff-ta
in comes that oh-so-familiar snare-kick-hi-hat rocker riff that just
never - changes.
But Saddest Vacant Lot in All the World when we finally get
to it meanders along to a rambling, poignant, utterly uncool Rogers &
Hart-type solo piano until it gets to the genius moment of the album (actually,
this might just be the single best couplet ever):
and hes so drunk hes passed out in a Datsun
thats parked out in the hot sun
That is so perfect.
(I guess you had to be there)
A Datsun!
Anyway, its a great song.
OK with my decay that follows is more quirky robotics stuff, and
the final two tracks are nicely maudlin. But frankly (can you tell?) Im
disappointed.
I find it vaguely apposite that Sumday should have been released
in the same week that the first announcements came out of Brian Wilsons
intention to perform the long-lost Beach Boys Smile sometime
next year. Whats exciting about Grandaddy (when they get round to remembering
it) is that they found something fresh in that over-mined seam of seventies
California surf-stuff and are eminently capable of boldly going with
it to wherever their fancy takes them.
Maybe next time.