So, sorry for the long delay. I finally got a job in this economy and haven't had as much time to devote to posts as I might like.
Unfortunately, after doing some research I came to find that Lisa Loeb is not, in fact, a one-hit wonder. Not even in a technical sense. She had two top twenty hits ("I Do" and "Do You Sleep?") following her number one single, "Stay."
Nonetheless, here's a few of her videos so you can enjoy her in all her sexy librarianness...
"Stay" (1994) from the Reality Bites soundtrack
"Do You Sleep?" (1995) from the album Tails
"I Do" (1997) from the album Firecracker
Bummer! Normally I'd feel completely justified in writing about someone whose only other singles had ranked low on the charts, but, well, I actually remember these songs. And they're pretty damn good to boot.
Plus, Lisa Loeb is just too dang cute for me to rip on too much. Basically, what I'm saying is that I have no integrity. Typical blogger! You're off the hook, Ms. Loeb.
I know what you're thinking. "Why the eff was this picture taken?" Well, I have one thing to say to you: would you ask Tom Petty that?
However, don't fret, I will absolutely have another entry up in the next few days, and I KNOW you'll like this one. (Note: that was a hint)
Few movies encapsulate an era like Ben Stiller's Reality Bites. That's not necessarily a compliment. I'd argue that only 1995's Empire Records bests it in the "middle-aged studio exec attempts to cash in on the humor and angst of the grunge generation using sub-John Hughes script, indie actors and eclectic soundtrack" department.
Released in 1994 and starring Gen X superstars Ethan Hawke and Winona Ryder, the film tells the story of four twenty-somethings living in Houston, TX in the mid-90s. Though Stiller and producers would later deny it, the initial idea was to make a film about the Generation X crowd and everything that went along with that lifestyle:
shitty 9-5 jobs - Ryder is a morning show PA, Hawke is unemployed for the 13th time in two years while roommate/friend Janeane Garofalo works as a manager at the ultimate '90s microcosm, The Gap.
relationships - Ryder's stuck in a love triangle between the wannabe philosopher, grunge rocker and all around loser Hawke, and the educated, successful yuppie-ish sell-out Stiller).
pop culture-centric conversations - endless references to '70s kitsch--half of Hawke's lines are either quoting a commercial jingle ("I'm a Pepper", "This girl is cukoo for Cocoa Puffs!") or throwing down some trivial tidbit about Good Times or Diff'rnt Strokes.
modern, sexually-based fears - at one point Garofalo takes an HIV test and fourth roommate Steve Zahn struggles with his sexuality.
living off fast food - Ryder at one point works at a burger place and, while on a date with Stiller, pontificates on the joys of 7-11's Big Gulp.
the fear of selling out and becoming like their parents, i.e. doing something not in the arts - Hawke repeatedly fails to live up to his potential due to the fear of selling out to "the man," Ryder sabotages her own job and later breaks up with Stiller when he dares to allow the MTV-like network he works for to edit a boring yet artistically sound documentary she made about her friends' lives into something commercial and entertaining.
Janeane Garofalo - does anything scream "'90s!" more than the grungy, sloppy, deadpan, cynical, "I'm studying for an M.A. in gender studies so fuck 90210" humor of Ms. Garofalo? MTV even made a cartoon based on her persona with Daria--and to make her even angrier, didn't give her any credit.
Of course, all of this was done better two years earlier in Cameron Crowe's Altman-esque survey of Seattle singles in the grunge era, titled, er, Singles. Audiences' initial reaction to Reality Bites was markedly less than Stiller and co. had hoped. Despite the indie-cred the film gained by playing at Sundance Film Festival, Reality Bites failed to connect with the ever-cynical Gen X crowd, and didn't really connect with anyone else either, grossing a reasonable-but-not-impressive $20 million at the box office. In recent years it has become something of a hit on video and DVD, buoyed by the meteoric rise of '90s nostalgia in the latter half of this decade. If nothing else, the film is extremely entertaining as a time capsule of the brief time period when Doc Martens with Guess Jeans shorts was considered the height of fashion, Kurt Cobain was the new Jim Morrison and the worst thing post-adolescent white people had to worry about was how bad it would look if they worked at The Gap.
The soundtrack, however, was a different story. A mish-mash of '80s new wave and indie, '70s hits, new covers and contemporary alternative rock, the album played like your average '90s college student's mixtape, and somewhat inexplicably birthed two left-field hits: Lisa Loeb's "Stay" and Big Mountain's cover of Peter Frampton's "Baby I Love Your Way."
This week we'll focus on the latter--next week, Loeb will get her own entry.
So, Big Mountain was a reggae band formed in the early 1990s and hailing from the decidedly un-Jamaican land of San Diego. For some reason, early '90s audiences welcomed non-Jamacian white dudes playing reggae (see also: UB40) and believe it or not, Big Mountain had hit the Hot 100 a year or so prior to Reality Bites. "Touch My Light," from the album Wake Up, had reached #51 on the Hot 100. The minor hit spurred Bites producer Ron Fair to approach the band about recording a cover of Frampton's song for the soundtrack.
Why didn't they just include Frampton's original recording? I honestly don't know. The original Frampton recording (which reached #12 on the Billboards) is featured in the actual movie during a scene where Stiller playfully berates Ryder for not knowing Frampton Comes Alive! (the metaphorical overtones of Stiller's yuppie-ish love for corporate rock are not lost on this viewer). My guess is that licensing Frampton's original recording would have cost the producers too much money, and reggae bands--as anyone who has ever eaten at a restaurant in the islands can attest to--are dirt cheap. It's also probable that the producers were looking for a hit single for the soundtrack and took a page from the 1993's Sliver soundtrack, which featured a UB40 cover of Elvis' "Can't Help Falling In Love With You."
I'm convinced the black guys were hired for the picture and are not actually members of Big Mountain
Turning Frampton's song into a reggae jam wasn't much of a stretch--the original was clearly influenced by reggae with Frampton doing a sad white man's imitation of an island singer. Still, Big Mountain's version turns into a full-on soft rock reggae jam, with lightly plucked acoustic guitars, a prominent saxophone and three-part harmony. And if there was any doubt in your mind that this wasn't a group of non-Jamaican white (and Mexican) dudes with dreads from So. Cal, the video--which looks to have been shot at a lame resort in Sandles--quickly changed that.
If reggae didn't die after this video, then it must have already been long dead, and this was merely another long, cheesy nail in the coffin. Any lingering memory of reggae that had concerns about injustice, poverty, religion (or basically that it had anything do with anything other than act as a soundtrack to your rockin' the gange and making love to your second wife on a beach in Sandles while a guy with dreads brings you a margarita) were washed away by this video. Dashikis, Steinberger guitars, unwieldy headset microphones, shots of Winona Ryder's ass in jeans...doesn't get much better than this, folks.
But as awesome as this version may be, it has nothing on the Spanish version, "Baby Te Quiero A Ti." Oh yeah, this actually happened.
Full disclosure: I recall loving the shit out of this song when I was all of 10 years old. As cheesy as it may be, it's infectious. That key change used to blow my mind. It made me want to play sax for about five minutes, and it very well could have been the first reggae song I ever really listened to (This could explain why I have no real use for reggae these days).
The song was a smash crossover, hitting #6 on the Hot 100, #1 on the Top 40, #10 on Adult Contemporary, #19 on Hot Latin Tracks (huh?) and #8 on Rhythmic Top 40 (double huh?). And thanks in part to that amazing Spanish version, the song was a worldwide hit. To make matters stranger--this wasn't the first time a cover of Frampton's song charted: in 1988, Will to Power had a #1 hit with their cloying medley of "Baby" and Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Free Bird."
The Reality Bites soundtrack sold 1.2 million units and reached #13 on the Billboard charts. The track was also included on their album Unity, which reached #174 on the album charts.
So where did Big Mountain go from there? They released two more singles. The first, an original called "Sweet Sensual Love" was very much in line with the sound of their hit; that is, safe, soft-rock reggae with all the edges smoothed out. The problem? It wasn't a cover! It stalled at #80 on the Billboard charts. Lead singer Quino and co. must have had their dreads tied too tied if they thought folks wanted to hear their original music. Luckily, the group smoked some of that Jamaican Gold and decided the public wanted a smooth-reggae version of another classic feel-good favorite.
They chose The Youngbloods' "Get Together," which in 1995 was somewhat popular again, having been featured on the monster-selling Forrest Gump soundtrack. Featured on their 1995 album, the vaguely political sounding Resistance, "Get Together" featured production that would have sounded dated in 1988, but brought the goods on the "feel-good smooth reggae" front, so I guess for that reason it could be called a success. As far as I can tell, there's not much to separate it from any of those Reggae Tribute to Paul Anka album. Listening to this song makes me feel like I'm in a shitty bar in inland Florida, watching some sunburned middle-aged fat guy in a sales rack Tommy Bahama shirt order up yet another Pina Colada with one hand while he gropes the frizzy haired 35-year-old divorcee in the bikini top and belly jewelry with the other hand. If that's not a ringing endorsement, I don't know what is.
The cover trick worked a second time and "Get Together" did surprisingly well, reaching #44 on the Billboard charts, and #28 on the Adult Contemporary charts.
The band was dropped from Warner Bros. after on more album, Free Up, in 1997. Since then they've been recording some originals, but have mostly fallen to recording reggae cover albums that no doubt are played in Jamaican themed restaurants throughout the midwest. So check out the lazily titled Versions Undercover for Big Mountain's take on John Lennon, James Taylor and others, or just sit near the speakers next time you go to Bahama Breeze (order the West Indies Ribs!). Hell, Big Mountain might even be playing at your location! (They live off tips, people! Have a heart!)
What was it about '90s rock music that lent itself so easily to female-fronted rock groups? How many times did you turn on MTV to see a cute girl sporting a dress she probably stole from her grandma and a hair color not found in nature standing in front of a wall of Marshall stacks singing about how much guys suck? They certainly weren't invented in the '90s. Janis Joplin, Patti Smith and Debbie Harry had held their own as the only girl in serious rock bands decades earlier, and certainly the '80s had their share with Chrissy Hynde of The Pretenders leading the way.
To look at it from an academic point of view, perhaps it was inspired by third-wave of feminism, which started in the early '90s and suggested that women's sexuality was a positive thing that could be empowering, challenging earlier views of sexuality as exploitative. It also allowed women the ability to "take back" words such as "bitch" and "whore." But perhaps that's a discussion probably best left for the Meredith Brooks entry...
Whatever it was, it was certainly popular. Besides the ultra-feminist bands of the riot grrrl movement like Bikini Kill and L7 (the latter infamous for an incident at a concert in which the lead singer removed her tampon and tossed it into the crowd, shouting, "Eat my tampon, fuckers!" in response to mud being slung at the stage), popular bands like The Breeders, No Doubt, The Cardigans, Veruca Salt, Hole, Luscious Jackson, and Belly all featured women in prominent roles--usually serving as lead vocalist and songwriter. At this point I could probably use Freudian analysis to dissect why so many of those type of bands--that is to say, bands in which a small, cute female lead singer surrounds herself with an all-male backing band--were so popular with male audiences, but that sounds kinda boring, so instead, I'm just going to talk about Letters to Cleo and how cute Kay Hanley is.
Letters to Cleo was formed by Hanley and guitarist Greg McKenna in Boston in 1988. McKenna had begun another band and drafted Hanley, then a member of a new wave group. When that band dissolved, McKenna and Hanley decided to continue their partnership with a new power-pop based project. With the addition of Mike Eisenstein on guitar, Stacy Jones on drums and Scott Riebling on bass, the project became Letters to Cleo, named for a box of letters from Hanley's childhood pen pal named, er, "Cleo".
LtC spent a few years gaining a following and sharpening their skills in the Boston area before recording their first album, Aurora Gory Alice, released on the local Boston label Cherry Disc Records in 1993. The album was successful enough to gain the attention of major label Giant Records who signed the band and re-released the album in 1994. The band already had another album in the can--Wholesale Meats and Fish--but would have to wait another year to release thanks to the success of an Aurora track that had been included on the soundtrack for Aaron Spelling awesomely cliched and horribly acted prime time soap Melrose Place--"Here and Now."
Besides Hanley's cuteness, not much impressive about the video as evidenced by this video, complete with color commentary by these two dudes from Texas
Thanks to the exposure of the song on the soundtrack (and the show, where it was played during the closing credits) the song went up the charts and the band found themselves playing the single that they'd recorded some three years previous on hip late night shows for young people like Jon Stewart's short-lived talk show and Conan's still-in-its-infancy Late Night program.
Again with the pigtails, Kay? You're making it really hard for me to not go Freudian on you here.
Equal parts hard rocking grunge and power-pop--and buoyed by Hanley's powerhouse vocals-- "Here and Now" showcased the band's sound nicely, and the song turned into a hit on the Modern Rock chart (#10), and even crossed over to the Hot 100 (#56) and Top 40 (#40). Oh, and in case you're wondering, here the really fast lyrics during the chorus...
The comfort of a knowledge and I'll rise above the sky above I'll never parallel the challenge of an acquisition In the here and now...here and now
I'm pretty sure we'll all stick with mumbling our way through that part when it comes on the iPod, but thought it would be nice to see, right?
The follow-up, "Awake," came off Wholesale Meats and Fish--the sophomore effort that was finally released after the success of "Here and Now." "Awake," while still poppy, had a harder-edged sound than "Here and Now." With the guitars turned up and the sound a little messier, the band sounds almost Weezer-ish. In fact, one could call Wholesale Meats and Fish the band's Pinkerton, which would make Aurora Gory Alice their Blue Album--only, you know, not quite as good. It's also clear that the sweetness of Hanley's vocals has been toned down a bit--they're less overpowering here.
The sweetness of the vocals may be what ultimately kept Letters to Cleo from achieving real success. There's some really great power-pop here, but Hanley's vocals run the risk of being sickly sweet and free of the sort of attitude that would make Gwen Stefani and No Doubt so successful. As good as the melodies and music were, there wasn't a whole lot in this single to separate the band from the other girl-fronted rock bands of the day.
"Awake" went to #17 on the Modern Rock charts and #88 on the Hot 100.
Still riding high on the success of "Here and Now," in 1996 Letters to Cleo turned their attention towards recording cover songs for movie soundtracks, starting with a cover of The Cars' "Dangerous Type" for the soundtrack to the completely boring teen-witch movie The Craft.
While the song failed to chart, it probably went a long way towards getting them the role as themselves in 1999's underrated teen comedy 10 Things I Hate About You. In the film--a retelling of Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew--Letters to Cleo are mentioned as being the favorite band of Julia Stiles' character (the shrew). Later in the film, the band actually shows up playing a cover of Nick Lowe's "Cruel to Be Kind" alongside '90s ska no-hit wonders Save Ferris:
Caution: Clips include Heath Ledger which might make you sad, and Alex Mack, which might make you aroused
The film also features the band playing a cover of Cheap Trick's "I Want You to Want Me" on the roof of the high school.
Fast forward to 1:48 to see the band on the roof...on second thought, dont'--this trailer is like a trip back in time. Watch the whole thing.
Letters to Cleo's music was also used in other forgotten teen girl-centric '90s films like Jawbreaker and The Babysitters Club. Kay Hanley also served as the singing voice of "Josie" in the horrific live-action Josie and the Pussycats movie. Sorry, no clip for that one--if you want to burn your retinas, do it on your own time.
A year later--after four albums, including 1997's Go! and 1998's Sister--the band called it quits after a final show in their home town in May of 2000.
Since then, each member has followed his or her own muse, with Kay Hanley releasing two solo albums (Cherry Marmalade in 2002 and Weaponize in 2008), drummer Stacy Jones forming American Hi-Fi and McKenna starting his own side project, Murder Capitol of the World.
But, like many one-hit wonders, the band has had to do some terrible things to make ends meet. I'm sure she's not proud of it, but on the 2007-2008 Hannah Montana tour, Kay Hanley sang back up for Miley Cyrus.
I know, I know. Take a moment. Pull it together. Now, let's move on.
Lucky for us (and for them, it would seem), in September 2008, the band announced their reunion, which kicked off with a series of shows that will continue May 20, 2009, starting with a free show in New Orleans and continuing into Texas. In 2008, the band also released an odds and sods collection, When Did We Do That? Find more info at their Myspace and official site.
Here's the band playing at a Boston club last December, with the band sounding as good as ever and, of course, Hanley looking as cute as ever. Even the evils of Miley Cyrus can't take down this sprightly woman.
A funny thing about pop music is that there's always room for the singer-songwriters. A movement begun in the '70s thanks to the popularity of Bob Dylan (who was really just doing his best Woody Guthrie), "singer-songwriter" became a genre in its own right and was made popular by artists wielding nothing more than a piano or acoustic guitar, their sweet voice, and some lyrics that, more likely than not, told a story about heartbreak. Think: Paul Simon, James Taylor, Jackson Browne, Carole King, Gordon Lightfoot, Don McLean, Carly Simon, Cat Stevens and a ton of other artists that you may have never heard of, but your parents love to play full-blast in their SUVs.
While there's yet to be a huge resurgence of the guy-and-his-guitar music since the '70s, its something that's really never gone away either. There's always a few breakthrough artists trickling onto the mainstream charts, and, incidentially, a lot of these turn out to be one-hit wonders (at least, as far as the mainstream is concerned), regardless of how talented they are (think David Gray, Daniel Powter, Aqualung). Many of these artists have similar histories--toil in the coffee houses for years, put out a few indie albums, get one brief shot at the big time, get played endlessly on VH1, and go back to square one. However, today's subject is such a good songwriter that, despite having a familiar history, he's managed to transcend it with critical acclaim and a fan-following.
Freedy Johnston grew up in Kinsley, KS--a rural farming town best-known for its distinctive location on the U.S. map: it's equidistant from New York City and San Francisco. Johnston was always musically inclined, but living in a town without a record store or music store of any kind, had difficulty developing his talent. At 16, Johnston bought a dirt-cheap guitar through a mail-order catalog, and at 17, convinced a friend to make the 35 mile drive to the closest record store so he could buy Elvis Costello's debut, My Aim is True. Moving to Lawrence, KS for what would be an abbreviated academic stint (he stayed less than a year at U of Kansas), Johnston immersed himself in the college town's music scene, which was then mostly New Wave. Johnston utilized his close proximity to an actual record store and began broadening his musical horizons, listening to everything from Neil Young to XTC to country music to Lawrence's local legends The Embarrassment.
In a move that sounds straight out of a Preston Sturges movie, Johnston left behind the farms and bars of Kansas for the coffeehouses and bars of New York, with nothing more than a four-track recorder and knapsack full of demo tapes. In 1989, four years after his arrival in the city, Johnston's music caught the attention of Bar/None Records--a respected, Hoboken, NJ-based label.
In 1990, the label released his debut, Trouble Tree--an album that was well-received by critics, who called Johnston a "post-punk Donald Fagen," despite its rough edges. The album did little business in the U.S., but became a minor hit in Holland and the song "No Violins" received some airplay. Unable to continue his venture monetarily, Johnston sold off a piece of the family farm--a painful decision, considering Johnston had inherited the farm from his grandfather (the incident is the subject of the album's lead track). The outcome was worth the risk as 1992's Can You Fly ended up on album of the year lists from Spin, Billboard, and The New York Times. Famed critic and Village Voice writer Robert Christgau gave it an A+ and called it "a perfect album." Critics compared his wry, character-based lyrics to the writings of Raymond Carver. Despte the lack of a single, DJs routinely played cuts from the album. Johnston's momentum was riding high, and he quickly signed to a major--Elektra Records, and drafted a mega-producer--Butch Vig (Nirvana's Nevermind, Smashing Pumpkins' Siamese Dream) --to man the boards for is follow up LP.
1994's This Perfect World was deemed a fine follow-up by most critics, although most agreed that it lacked the consistent greatness of its predecessor. Rolling Stone named Johnston songwriter of the year for 1994. But others were dismayed at the album's slick approach--Johnston's champion Robert Christgau later called the songwriter's team up with the uber-slick Vig a "mismatch" but Vig's jangly (if admittedly a little too smooth) production gave Johnston his first and only hit: "Bad Reputation."
This Perfect World's leadoff track, "Bad Reputation" is an excellent example of Johnston's songwriting prowess--both melodically and lyrically--and melancholy vocals. The song features Johnston's speaker admitting his past as an unreliable lover--"do you want me now?" he asks in the refrain. Translation: "yeah, I'm a pretty sketchy dude--you still interested?" The song is gorgeous, beginning with Johnston's vocals and acoustic guitar before giving way to a full scale ballad, complete with guitars so jangly, The Byrds may have asked him to ease off on the treble. When the song breaks back down to just Johnston and his voice again, he proclaims, "nobody's gonna tell me who to love," a line that's at once sad and proud--and a perfect example of Johnston's songwriting style.
Despite lots of radio airplay--particularly on college radio--"Bad Reputation" wasn't a huge hit, though it did show up on three separate charts--hitting #54 on Billboard Hot 100, #29 on Top 40 and #28 on Modern Rock. Oddly enough, the song didn't show up on the Adult Radio charts, despite Johnston being tailor-made for the format. Maybe didn't help that the song's video would be nominated for Most Generic Video of all time. "Let's film Freedy singing in the streets of NY, and intercut it with some funny/interesting looking locals and hot, arty looking chicks...but here's the kicker, it's all going to be in sepia tone. Yeah. Fuck with that, Hype Williams."
(Apologies for the annoying ad)
The song was also featured as the closing credits song for Noah Baumbach's supremely excellent post-college indie comedy Kicking & Screaming (no, not the one with Will Ferrell. The one that's actually funny). It was also featured in the not-half-bad trailer:
"Are you wearing mascara?" "No...yes."
Johnston's one and only real hit (if you could call it that) was, unlike many one-hit wonders, a great example of his work. It's not surprising that it didn't hit as much as Elektra might have liked it to--it wasn't grunge or post-grunge, and the big college rock explosion of Dave Matthews Band and Hootie & The Blowfish was just beginning to happen. There wasn't much room for a melancholy singer-songwriter with a strong pop sense.
Still, Elektra released a second single, and an excellent one at that. "Evie's Tears" is a gorgeous track. Buoyed by a sweet little Rickenbacker riff that might have had R.E.M.'s Peter Buck calling his lawyers, the song gives way to a creepy story about a guy disturbed by his girlfriend's admission that she was or is currently being sexually abused by a Catholic priest. No, it doesn't exactly go along with the otherwise jubilant music, but that's the brilliance of Johnston--marrying pop smarts with literary smarts. Still--not something one wants to hear Casey Kasem talk about for one of his "requests and dedications," so maybe we should be grateful the track didn't make it to the airwaves.
Though Johnston never again met the success of This Perfect World, he stayed on Elektra until 2001, and ended up scoring a minor hit on the Adult Contemporary charts with a play-it-straight cover of Edison Lighthouse's "Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes)". But despite a lack of big success, Johnston continued to be well-respected by critics and his fellow songwriters (he's been referred to as a "songwriter's songwriter" for his genius structure and lyrical ability) as well as maintain a strong following. The following has enabled him to continue recording and releasing albums, including a demos compilation in 2004 and a live album in 2006. In 2007, Johnston recorded a mail-order only album of twelve cover songs by other artists as eclectic as NRBQ, Dionne Warwick, Eagles, Marshall Crenshaw, Tom Petty, and Paul McCartney & Wings. The album, called, My Favorite Waste of Time, is available on his website.
Johnston has also left behind his adopted city of New York for my hometown, Nashville, TN. He's currently recording a new album titled Rain on the City, slated to be released sometime in 2009.
So while, no, Freedy Johnston did not become the next Dylan or even reach the status of the new Paul Simon--new Todd Rundgren, maybe?--he helped to prove that, every once in a while, the public just wants some good music that doesn't rely on fancy production, loud guitars or pained vocals. Shocking, I know.
You know when a friend of yours keeps pushing a band/movie/TV show on you, and you've tried your best to like it, but it's just not catching? For instance, the HBO comedy Flight of the Conchords. Most of my friends dig the show, and I love the hell out of it. But I have one friend who just can't get into it. He's seen an episode or two OnDemand, but it didn't catch. He'll tell me a line that he thought was funny, or maybe a character that made him laugh, but overall, his reaction is "meh." It could be his sense of humor, it could be the circumstances or environment under which he watched the episodes, but whatever it was, it's just one of those things that might not ever happen. He couldn't see what the big deal was.
Such is the case of many British music exports. In the 1980s, bands like Frankie Goes to Hollywood were considered huge artists in Britain. But when they tried to take that success to the Americans--well, we liked that one song, "Relax," and those t-shirts were nifty, but that was about it. It just didn't stick. Cool band, we collectively remarked, but what's the big frickin' deal?
And in the '90s, there were multiple exports. Artists who were absolutely massive in their home country and in Europe--they sold tens of millions of albums, sold millions of tickets and had three hits in the Top Ten at the same time. But...when they sent the artists over here to the U.S., more often than not our reaction was, "meh."
Such was the case of many Anglo-artists who I will discuss in this new series, cleverly titled "British Evasion." (Get it? Cause they evade success stateside. No? Please?)
We'll begin with one Robert Peter Williams, better known to the masses (at least across the pond) as Robbie Williams. A sharp, good looking, hedonistic, former boyband member of ambiguous sexual proclivities, Williams was propped up by record labels as the new George Michael--but one that actually might like girls as well as guys.
Having served as a member of the ultra-successful boyband Take That since 1990--the UK's answer to New Kids on the Block--Williams was primed for solo success when he struck out on his own in 1995 (or, as some reports had it, was fired from the group). Williams had been known by fans and the press as the rebel of the group, so his exit didn't come as a surprise. Williams made a big thing making sure everyone knew his solo career would be very different than Take That's music. He claimed he was leaving dance pop behind in favor of a more rock n' roll sound, even namedropping Noel Gallagher in interviews, saying the Oasis leader had planned on tossing Williams a couple of songs. But while his time with Oasis yielded no music, it instead increased the public's awareness of Williams--as a hard partier who liked to drink and drug with the best of them. Williams became something of a tabloid target during this time, but by the end of 1996, he'd started his solo career. In a move that was more than a little symbolic, Williams' first single was a cover of George Michael's "Freedom," which reached #2 on the UK Singles chart--actually better than Michael's original showing.
Take That in their prime
Soon after, he recorded and released his solo debut album, Life Thru a Lens. While the first two Oasis-influenced singles did well on the UK charts (though the third single tanked), he was not to reach the European charts until the album's forth single, the Elton John-esque "Angels" was released. The song was a smash, blowing up the European and Latin American charts and helped send album sales through the roof. The album stayed in the top ten for forty weeks and quickly became one of the best selling albums in British history, selling 2.4 million copies and another 3 million in the UK. Of course, in the U.S., it tanked, reaching only #120 on the album charts and selling a pitiful 16,500 copies.
Williams' next single from his sophomore effort was "Millennium," a song clearly inspired by John Barry's James Bond scores (particularly Goldfinger). The new album, I've Been Expecting You, released in October 1998, did even better than his debut, selling 2.7 million copies in the UK and another 5 million in Europe. The album had four singles, most of which did extremely well on the charts and a few even won awards. In 2005, Expecting You was ranked the 91st Greatest Album of All Time by British television's Channel4. In the US, the album did better than the previous, selling over 100,000 copies, but it was still far from what one might expect from an international superstar.
At this point, Williams was one of the biggest stars in the world in every country except the U.S. And thus began the plan for Robbie Williams to take the U.S. by storm. No doubt realizing the success of the Spice Girls and other British pop stars, in 1999, Williams' stateside record company, Capitol Records, decided to repackage his first two albums as a compilation. The compilation's title--The Ego Has Landed--played not only as a nod to the pop star's now infamous tabloid exploits, but also as a bit of an immodest statement that, "yeah, this guy's gonna be huge." Unfortunately for Williams and his record company, just because you say something is going to be big, doesn't necessarily mean it will be.
Reaction to the compilation was mixed--critics agreed that Williams had some good songs, but the decision to compile six songs from his first two albums made for an awkward listening experience. It only reached #63 on the Billboard album charts.
Meanwhile, the record company and Williams had decided on "Millennium" as the first single. In a thinly veiled attempt to remind Americans of their other favorite roguishly charming UK export, the video features Williams in a tuxedo surrounded by throngs of beautiful women and references (some might say parodies) numerous Bond films.
Somewhere between George Lazenby and Roger Moore lies Robbie Williams.
Nonplussed by Williams' James Bond references, the American people said "meh" to Williams and the song peaked at #72 on the Billboard Hot 100. However, the video did receive a good deal of airplay on MTV and that year was nominated in the Best Male Video category, and while he didn't win, the exposure helped album sales.
Convinced Williams had what it took to make it big in the states, Capitol Records kept pushing. For his second single, they wisely chose "Angels," the song that originally shot Williams to stardom in his home country. The record company ordered a new album to be filmed and promoted the hell out of Williams to radio and on TV.
But America simply wasn't taking the bait. Though it did better than "Millennium," the #41 showing on the Billboards and a platinum status for The Ego Has Landed wasn't enough for Williams to stick around. He packed his bags (metaphorically, at least) and focused on his star status in the rest of the world.
While Williams continued his success in the UK and the rest of the world, he failed to score anymore high charting singles in the US, being relegated to the US Dance charts for his subsequent singles.
As if to illustrate just how low-profile a celebrity Williams is, he's stated that he lives in Los Angeles because it affords him a level of "freedom and privacy" that wasn't available to him in the UK. Yes, this man is living in the home of all media and celebrity obsession as a means to hide out. Let that one sink in.
But outside the U.S., Williams continued to be a huge star. In 2002, he signed a contract with EMI reportedly worth $80 million. Still, his subsequent albums, Sing When You're Winning and Escapology, never caught on with mainstream audiences--though several of his singles have snuck onto the Adult Top 40 and dance charts and done quite well. Because of this relative antipathy by U.S. audiences, subsequent albums Live at Knebworth, Intensive Care and his latest, 2006's Rudebox, were not released by any label in the U.S., but were instead made available on iTunes.
Though Williams is still a sensation in the rest of the world, his popularity has dropped slightly. Despite 2004's Intensive Care going 5x platinum in the UK, it was his least successful album in the country. The electro/dance collaboration album Rudebox did even more poorly in his home country, only going 2x platinum (which equates to 500,000 copies in the UK). However, the album fared better in the rest of Europe where it had sold nearly 5 million copies by 2007. In 2004 he was inducted into the UK Hall of Fame for his contributions to music.
Williams himself has had ups and downs. In 2005 he sued a tabloid for libel after claiming Williams was a closeted homosexual. He has been in and out of rehab several times, most recently in 2007 for addiction to an anti-depressant. Williams is reportedly working with partner Guy Chambers and mega producer/DJ/Sam's brother Mark Ronson on a new album, and no, it will probably not do very well in the states. In March 2009, Williams expressed interest in rejoining Take That for a worldwide tour.
So, no, maybe Robbie Williams didn't hit quite like he'd wanted to in the U.S., he is probably crying into his piles of money, or maybe in a vault in his mansion, swimming around in a sea of coinage a la Scrooge McDuck in Ducktales. The dude's worth approximately £90 million, so don't feel too bad for him.
Oh yeah, and before I leave you, take a look at his infamous CRIBS episode--a tour of a house in L.A. that's probably like, oh, one of twelve or so that he owns. Here he can be seen actively fighting against the gay rumors, er, or something. robbie williams on cribs
In the wake of Nirvana's success, tons of bands deemed "grunge" got signed to major labels. I'm not talking about the indie, alternative bands that majors raided to fill up their rosters in a vain attempt to discover the next Nirvana. No, I'm talking about the bands that were heavily mining Nevermind for how to construct this new sound even before Nirvana's tragic end.
Around the same time, a young, unknown comic progeny named Ben Stiller had a short-lived show on the Fox network entitled, The Ben Stiller Show, featuring Andy Dick, Janeane Garafalo and Bob Odenkirk and written by some dude named Judd Apatow.
Anyways, the show featured skits mostly making fun of movies or TV shows, and a whole lot laughing at the self-seriousness of the Gen-X movement. One of the best was a parody of the '60s live-action cartoon show The Monkees--The Grungies.
Grunge was still cool at the time of Stiller's show and the genre hadn't yet given way to the awful crap that was to come--a type of music that essentially was a parody of the Seattle scene. Indeed, this genre continues to plague us almost 15 years later. You hear it any time you turn your dial to the modern rock station, under the guises of bands with nonsensical names like Hoobastank and Nickleback. It spills out of the car windows of teenagers driving their grandma's car while they sit bobbing their head in the driver's seat wearing their backwards hats and black t-shirts they bought at Sam Goody. That's right, it's POST-GRUNGE!
I will give you a minute to clean up, because you no doubt just shit yourself at the very mention of that name. Now, what is the difference between grunge and post-grunge? Funny you should ask.
Grunge - adopting the sludgy sounds of metal gods Black Sabbath and the lyrical and musical attack of punk godfathers like The Stooges, grunge conveyed elements of heavy metal and punk with loud, distorted guitars, apathetic lyrics, and loud-soft dynamics. Hardcore punk/sludge metal bands like Black Flag and the Melvins--from nearby Montesano, Washington--were often name checked as huge sources of inspiration. However, there was also a notable influence from indie-rock, an influence which grew after heavier grunge bands like Mudhoney, Soundgarden and Green River gave way to more melodically inclined bands like Nirvana, who were as influenced by indie-rockers like R.E.M., the Pixies and Dinosaur Jr as they were hardcore and metal. Pearl Jam, Soundgarden and their hybrid, Temple of the Dog, also show a large classic rock influence--namely that of Led Zeppelin. Other grunge bands of note: Mother Love Bone, Screaming Trees, Alice in Chains.
Post-grunge - (with help from allmusic.com) a subgenre of alternative rock and a derivative of grunge music that began after the mainstream success of bands out of Washington like Nirvana, Soundgarden and Pearl Jam around 1994. Post-grunge incorporates many of the features of grunge music: loud-quiet dynamics, distorted guitars, angst-ridden lyrics, lead singers with scratchy, angsty voices or voices that flat out rip-off Kurt Cobain or Eddie Vedder, BUT, the music is generally more slickly produced, radio-friendly and without the idiosyncrasies and nuances of the bands that influenced them. Post-grunge bands generally took the loud guitars, angsty singers, perceived self-seriousness, and of course, the long, greasy hair and flannel shirts, and homogenized it into faceless commercial radio-rock. Also note that post-grunge started off okay, quickly became mediocre and now is the scourge of the music world. See: Days of the New, Bush, Live, Collective Soul* and later Creed, Hinder, Seether, Staind, etc. As of 2009, post-grunge has gone from being "alternative rock" in the mid-90s to taking over modern rock radio almost entirely.
That's not to suggest that all post-grunge bands were bad and all grunge bands were good. Post-grunge had some great acts like Local H, and grunge had its fair share of crappy acts, one of which I choose not to name for fear of an enormous backlash from their rabid fanbase.
One of the bands who came straight out of the gates following the success of Nevermind--and happened to be actually decent--was the Ft. Worth, Texas band, Toadies. Clearly influenced by the Pixies as much as Nirvana and grunge, the band mixed their post-grunge sounds with a menacing psychedelic influence and an occasional touch of southern blues rock (think a hard-edged ZZ Top).
Started in 1989 by head songwriter/lead vocalist Todd Lewis, the band issued a series of self-released cassette singles before releasing an EP titled Pleather in 1993. The EP--which featured an early version of the soon-to-be-classic "Possum Kingdom"--gained the attention of major record labels and after singing to Interscope, the band released their first full-length, Rubberneck, in 1995.
The first single, "Possum Kingdom" (or as it was listed on Napster back in the day, "Do You Wanna Die?") is one of the best and best-known hard rock singles of the post-Nirvana era. It's one of the few classics to come from this period, and one listen to the song shows why. Something of a grunge epic, the tune features a crushing riff, three distinct (and equally ass kicking) sections, a time signature change, and tells a strange story that--depending on whom you ask--is either about vampires, the Zodiac killer, a girl losing her virginity, a rape, or some kind of ghost story. Taking a cue from Phil Collins, whose "In the Air Tonight' has experienced years of success based on its creepy plot, Lewis never gave a straight answer to the press or fans, but did explain his inspirations. The song is named after Possum Kingdom State Park and Lewis claimed at the time that it was inspired by stories he'd heard concerning the park's "eerie lake" where he and his family used to barbecue. Nevertheless, the group reportedly gained a large vampire following--that is to say, lame Buffy fans in Tampa liked to put in fake teeth and dress like Dracula and come to Toadies shows and sing along. Think of the old SNL skit, "Goth Talk" with Molly Shannon and Chris Kataan and you've got a good idea of this fanbase. Don't get any ideas, Twilight fans.
The supremely creepy music video--which opens with a body bag being pulled from a lake--did nothing to dissuade any creepy interpretations of the song. (Oh yeah, and that is a chick bass player--the ultimate sign of a good alternative rock band. Or at least a sign that you like the Pixies and/or Sonic Youth.)
The song was a smash hit, charting high on the Modern Rock and Mainstream Rock charts and even cracked the Hot 100. Not bad for a song that repeatedly asks the listener if they would like to die.
"Possum Kingdom" was one of five singles off Rubberneck released by the label, which may sound like overkill, considering that means nearly half the album being played on rock radio--not a common occurence unless you're Red Hot Chili Peppers. Despite the airplay, "Mister Love," "Backslider" and "Tyler" all failed to chart, even though the latter even featured its own video. The only one that had any staying power was "Away"--the direct follow-up to "Possum Kingdom."
"Away" starts out like a Nirvana deep cut with its soft-loud-soft dynamics and guitarist Darrell Herbert's snakey lead fills which sound possessed by the Pixies Joey Santiago. But once you get past the obvious influences and realize that the Toadies concern themselves more with crafting great riffs and writing above average lyrics than creating something original, you start to realize just how good the song is. It's not quite as epically awesome as "Possum Kingdom"--though it does feature a similar, truncated structure--but it's got that same underlying creepiness, a bone-crushing riff and a good level of head-bangability. When Nirvana has ended prematurely and the Pixies have folded, and you're still yearning for some heavy, well constructed rock, the Toadies--and "Away" especially--fit the bill.
"Away" went to #23 on the Mainstream Rock chart and #28 on the Modern chart.
I also have to include "Tyler," just because it's a great rock song. Talk about unoriginal--I'm fairly certain this song is on Doolittle by the Pixies. But guess what? I don't care, cause the song is so goddamn hooky and fun. If you're going to steal, do it well, and steal from the best (but maybe don't let Frank Black hear you, he might start asking for royalties). While it wasn't a hit, it became a favorite at Toadies shows and still received tons of airplay.
So now then. With a hit album that went gold immediately and platinum a year later, the Toadies were primed to be a successful band, and not just a one-hit wonder. So what the hell happened?
Like with most of these bands, their label screwed them. After touring for two years with bands like Butthole Surfers and Red Hot Chili Peppers, the band eventually headed back into the studio. After recording a full album titled Feeler, which was being eyed for a 1998 release, the band handed the finished recordings to Interscope--but the label rejected them. After the rejection, the band, worn out from the road and without an album to promote, decided to take a break to write new songs and didn't reconvene until 2000. Salvaging some of the Feeler songs, the band finally went back into the studio with Rubberneck producers Tom Rothrock and Rob Schnapf, and came out with Hell Below/Stars Above. The album was a commercial failure
That's when the real trouble began. The album was released in spring 2001, seven years after their debut and things had changed. Five months after the album's release, Lewis called the Dallas Observer to announce that bassist Lisa Umbarger had quit and that the rest of the band would not be continuing on as the Toadies. The band would reconvene sporadically to play a few dates in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area but did not officially reunite until 2007.
During the interim, Todd Lewis began a new band, Burden Brothers, with Reverend Horton Heat drummer Taz Bentley. The band released a full-length in 2006, but a funny thing happened with the Toadies. The band released a couple of live albums in 2002 and 2006, and sales were enough to suggest to Lewis that maybe the Toadies weren't dead after all. With some old members and new bassist Doni Blair, Lewis brought the Toadies back for a couple of local festival shows in 2006, and a year later, the Toadies hit the road for a small tour around Texas, hitting spots in Houston, Austin and Dallas.
After a couple of years of activity on their MySpace page, in May 2008, the group announced the release of their third album of all new material, No Deliverance. The album was released in August 2008 and received a big promotional push from the Toadies new label, Kirtland Records. The single "Song I Hate" shows the Toadies back to doing what they do best--hard, catchy rock that's derivative as hell, but still damn good.
So for all my blathering about post-grunge (and really, there is some horrendous crap out there), there are a lot of worse things in music than being unoriginal. If you're looking for a solid rock band that will bring to mind the greats of '80s indie rock/grunge, check out Rubberneck or Hell Below/Stars Above next time you're in a a CD store with a cutout bin or used section. And catch these guys on tour this year, their live show will melt your sneakers.
*Collective Soul was really more of a pop-rock band that had been marketed and styled as grunge, but had no real connection to the genre and are unfairly labeled "post-grunge," even by assholes like me
Our purpose: to uncover the lost second singles of long forgotten one-hit wonders.
I am providing these songs for sampling purposes for a short time, and in order to encourage people to buy music, directly from the artist whenever possible.
So, sorry for the long delay. I finally got a job in this economy and haven't had as much time to devote to posts as I might like.
I know what you're thinking. "Why the eff was this picture taken?"
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