BARENAKED LADIES: SILVERBALL (2015)
1) Get Back Up; 2) Here
Before; 3) Matter Of Time; 4) Duct Tape Heart; 5) Say What You Want; 6)
Passcode; 7) Hold My Hand; 8) Narrow Streets; 9) Toe To Toe; 10) Piece Of Cake;
11) Globetrot; 12) Silverball; 13) Tired Of Fighting With You.
Honestly, by the time the Pageless Barenaked
Ladies released their third album, I have forgotten everything about every
single note off the previous two — so either I have become a softie over the
last two years, or Silverball is
actually a slight improvement, because this time around, I would not describe
the record as a «languid, go-nowhere crust of mediocrity». It is a bit languid,
sure, and it is somewhat mediocre,
but it also seems as if Robertson finally got his head out of that «maturity
oven» and started paying a little attention to hooks — which, really, should be
your first concern if what you are making is an album of pop songs, and Silverball sure as heck ain't cosmic
psychedelia or ambitious symph-rock.
I have no idea why they decided to kick-start
the record with a Blue Öyster Cult-style hard rock riff, when in reality ʽGet
Back Upʼ is just a mainstream pop-rock song in the style of pre-slutty era
Miley Cyrus — a program song, in which Robertson asserts his right to solid
mediocrity ("not everything is sink or swim") while at the same time,
perhaps, admitting that things had indeed taken a turn for the worse over the
previous years ("I'm a little bit worse for wear"). Well, okay, if a
tepidly produced hard rock bridge section helps you get back up, so be it — the
question is, can the rest of the album actually satisfy the pledge?
Well, if you accept that for the Ladies, «up»
really means «rocking back and forth in a cozy rocking chair by the fireplace»,
then it does. Most of these songs are predictably cuddly, but they are also
bouncy, fast-paced, and focused on catchy choruses — a type of unassuming
domesticity that I could see as successful, sort of like a tribute album to
ʽWhen I'm Sixty Fourʼ, even if none of the band members are even close to that
age border at the moment. Regardless of whether the song in question is
electric power-pop with an anthemic refrain (ʽHere Beforeʼ), soft toe-tappy
country-pop with a cute electronic lining (ʽMatter Of Timeʼ), or a nostalgic
throwback to Eighties synth-pop à la
ABC or Duran Duran (ʽDuct Tape Heartʼ), they all share two things — soft introspective
sentimentality-vulnerability and a genuinely singalong chorus, sometimes
supported with strategically placed harmonies (like the woo-woos on ʽDuct Tape
Heartʼ).
This does not cure the music of its main
illness — complete lack of teeth, particularly deep biters that could tear a
serious hole in your soul. This is indie on the level of, say, Badly Drawn Boy,
more appropriate for a second-rate Pixar movie soundtrack or some other family
entertainment franchise than for anyone who wants to experience the true power
of music. But, surprisingly, song after song they succeed in populating the
melodies with hooks — either a fun keyboard line, or a nice vocal twist, or an
odd retro move (like that flourish at the start of ʽPiece Of Cakeʼ that seems
to have been borrowed out of some ambitious disco piece circa 1978), and as
they accumulate, it slowly leads me to the inevitable conclusion: Silverball is an album that at least
has a right and reason to exist, unlike its two predecessors. As George
Harrison once wrote — "When your teeth drop out / You'll get by even
without taking a bite", a perfect sentence to be used as a tagline for
this album and this stage of the band's career in general.
And the best song on the album? As much as Kevin
Hearn's ʽDaydreamin'ʼ was a bore, ʽTired Of Fighting With Youʼ is a touch of
humble beauty; it helps to know that the song was written during his latest
bout with the freshly returned leukemia, but even without that knowledge the
vocals, the lyrics, the gently descending waves of melody cut straight to the
heart this time. The title of the song and the way it is stretched over the
chorus might trigger faraway associations with the Kinks' ʽTired Of Waiting For
Youʼ, with which the tune also shares its aura of tender melancholy, but not
its subject matter — actually, I guess this might be one of the tenderest songs
about a lethal illness ever written.
Anyway, I would like to advance the record its thumbs up: even if there is very little here that
would make me want to return to the album now, I do feel like I could easily
return here as I advance in age — the whole thing is so homely and cuddly and
insists on tackling serious problems and issues in the softest, politest,
gentlest ways possible that it would make the perfect soundtrack for nursing
homes. And many of us will eventually end up in nursing homes, so it's always
wise to stack up a little something for future use.
Nice George. I've been waiting ages for you to review this album. I'm honestly surprised how much you liked it. As a huge fan of BNL, I obviously have mixed feelings about your reviews of them, but I think you hit it on the head with Silverball. I don't dislike Pageless BNL as much as you, and probably prefer Grinning Streak simply for the pairing of Gonna Walk/Odds Are, but I think this was as solid an effort as any fan should expect, especially since no one would expect them to put out so many albums lately.
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