BADFINGER: ASS (1973)
1) Apple Of My Eye; 2) Get
Away; 3) Icicles; 4) The Winner; 5) Blind Owl; 6) Constitution; 7) When I Say;
8) Cowboy; 9) I Can Love You; 10) Timeless; 11*) Do You Mind.
Badfinger's last album for Apple Records is
usually considered their «heaviest» record — which automatically generates a
premature bias: «Badfinger? Heavy? Is that a contradiction or a contradiction?»
Well, not so much a contradiction as a slight exaggeration. The trick is, for
some reason Pete Ham took a relatively small part in the songwriting process
this time — he only contributes the first and last track, while the majority of
tunes on Ass belong to Joey Molland,
and Joey Molland was, indeed, the «resident rocker» of the band, its one and
only member who had a genuine penchant for boogie, and was always tempted to create it, not just play it.
This does not mean, however, that Badfinger
tried to go «heavy metal» or anything like that. In fact, there is only one
genuinely «heavy» rocker, with deep metallic bass, dark riffage, and scorching
wah-wah solos — ʽConstitutionʼ, an amusing attempt on Joey's part to sing about
how he chooses to «be like everybody else» against a musical arrangement that
sounds like nothing else Badfinger had ever done before. The tune is completely
generic, but saved in the nick of time by Ham — he didn't write it, but he
plays terrific wah-wah throughout, once again proving how seriously underrated
he has always been as a lead player, learning a little from everyone but
directly imitating no one.
In the meantime, Molland's biggest problem is
that, unexpectedly faced with the reality of becoming the band's main
songwriter, he does not live up to the task, and frequently falls back upon
clichés or, as I suspect, subconscious rip-offs from whomever he happened to be
listening to at the time. The oddest Frankenstein here is ʽThe Winnerʼ, which
takes its vocal hook ("you can drive a car, be a movie star...") from
Ringo's ʽIt Don't Come Easyʼ, its closing vocal harmonies from the Beatles'
ʽThe Wordʼ or suchlike, and its bridge riff from Deep Purple's ʽSpace Truckinʼ
(not quite sure about the chronology: ʽThe Winnerʼ is one of two songs that the
band recorded while still under the supervision of Todd Rundgren, in early
1972, but ʽSpace Truckinʼ did come out in March — coincidence?).
ʽGet Awayʼ is faceless (but still not very
heavy) roots-a-boogie as well, leaving the ballads ʽIciclesʼ and ʽI Can Love
Youʼ as Joey's finest contributions to the record — which is not to say they
are very good: ʽIciclesʼ is a bit too flat, pathetic, and moralistic, and ʽI
Can Love Youʼ tries to establish a cunning hook in the chorus, but fails, I
think. Overall, both are just sort of stuck in inoffensive, evenly flowing
mid-tempo without generating much excitement. Big difference between both of
them and Pete's only ballad on the album — ʽApple Of My Eyeʼ, not too subtly
commenting on the band's severing of relationships with the label. It may not
be a huge improvement on Joey's standards in terms of melody, but Pete was
always the better «artist», and his lyrics, vocal modulation, and phrasing
convey the atmosphere of bittersweetness to a tee — making the song into one of
the most gallantly and chivalrously delivered «fuck yous» in the business.
Evans' and Gibbins' contributions are not
particularly memorable or respectable (Gibbins' ʽCowboyʼ might, in fact, be
one of the most oddly misguided Badfinger efforts ever, along with ʽWatford
Johnʼ: harmonica, fiddle, and steel guitar-driven country-western? Silliest
moment: "...now I know you well enough to say ʽyeahʼ... YEAAAAH!"),
which leaves us with a very weak Side B, and the most difficult question here
is what to do about Ham's eight-minute epic ʽTimelessʼ, an attempt to suck up
to the «pretentious art-rock» movement, but still following the guidance of the
Beatles rather than Yes or King Crimson — the structure, the mood, the
duration, the chords, the lengthy coda sprayed with blasts of white noise, all
of this brings on obvious associations with ʽI Want You (She's So Heavy)ʼ,
although in strict factual terms the song is, of course, quite an original
creation. Does it work or doesn't it?
It does for me, to some extent. First, everyone
is entitled to a little bit of metaphysical panic from time to time, and Pete
Ham is as qualified as anybody to ask the question «are we timeless?». Second,
it is his first attempt to write something oddly shaped, decidedly removed from
the standards of a potential pop hit — the instrumental melody seems cobbled
from unpredictable chord sequences, and the vocal melody is more akin to a Shakesperian
monolog than a symmetric pop construction. Third, the coda is very well made,
with another of those stirring, aggressive solos of Pete's that are just so
goddamn believable.
In the end, Ass is an album riddled with problems — starting with its very
title (and the illuminative picture of a donkey on the front cover does not
really help out) and ending with the unfortunate story of its creation (Apple
once again rejected the original version, and ended up releasing the final
product something like a year too late, clashing with the band's new first
album for Warner Bros.). It is not a complete disaster, and there is nothing
wrong about including one or two heavy rockers as long as Joey Molland remains
a rocker deep in his heart and Pete Ham can easily slip into rock'n'roll mode
on the strength of his natural gift. But it is
a «middle-of-the-road» effort, as it downplays the presence of the band's
finest songwriter and, on occasion, slips into embarrassment mode (really, ʽCowboyʼ
is something I'd think they should have left behind in their early Iveys days).
Ham's contributions are still strong enough to guarantee a shaky thumbs up,
but, overall, the album is one of those «transitional» efforts that give more
food for thought for band historians than cause for joy for regular fans.
Perhaps it's just me, perhaps it's because the song on YouTube only can be found in a live version of 1979, but I just listened to The Winner twice in a row and don't recognize any influence from Space Truckin'. Am I the only one?
ReplyDeleteFor history's sake: being from 1963 I can witness that at least until 1975 and highly possibly until 1980 the labels hardrock and heavy metal were synonymous. It didn't make any sense to separate two genres if only four bands had made it big (BS, DP, LZ and UH). It made even less sense when the whole genre was declared dead around 1977, thanks to punk.
I can see the correlation...
ReplyDeleteAss) "here he comes (doodle-oo do-do), that's the winner..."
Machine Head) "come on, (doodle-oo do-do*)... let's go space truckin'"
*albeit with a different melody
It's there, but it's not super-apparent. I wouldn't even call it the same riff or melody; more of a pattern. One could just as well point out that both album titles imply sex. Sure, but that's hardly unique to these albums, and the same goes for the melodic & rhythmical pattern that have in common. Rock music has a finite number of such building blocks.
That being said, I dig this album, although I think only about half of it holds up well. Joey's best songs are the softer ones, "Icicles" and "I Can Love You" (and the bonus track "Do You Mind"). "The Winner" is ok, "Constitution" has its moments (incongruous lyrics though) and "Get Away" is generic and useless. Pete's songs aren't his best, but they're still good. Tom's "When I Say" is lovely but the lyrics are too simple, and "Blind Owl" is fun but would have made more sense with a softer, more pensive arrangment, i.e. closer to its demo. Midtempo was usually the way to go with these guys. And Mike's "Cowboy" is just about unlistenable.
Still, what are they going to do? This was recorded right around the time their manager was pushing them toward quantity over quality. Their first album for Warner Bros (the eponymous one) had the same amount of filler as this one, and came out at the same time. Such rotten management.