07 Bee Thousand
By the time I reached this album, I had a slight sense of apprehension. Even with my (for now) limited knowledge of all of the history and context, I was well aware of the exceptionally high regard in which it is held. For one thing, it appears on a multitude of 'best of' lists, for example Rolling Stone's '100 Best Albums of the 90s', Mojo's 'The 100 Greatest Albums of Our Lifetime 1993–2006' and Pitchfork's 'Top 100 Albums of the 1990s' (at #10). It's also the number one choice on virtually every ranking list you find online (there are examples here, here, here, here and here).
So, would I have to face a barrage of derision for daring to suggest that it isn't exactly all it's cracked up to be? I'd have been quite prepared to do so (I've been in such situations before). However, that turns out to be a moot point, because Bee Thousand is, to put it bluntly, simply f*cking awesome. (Not, admittedly, my most finessed critical position, but one I'm entirely comfortable with.)
The Album
Our trip to taller windows
Nearly half of the twenty tracks are nailed-on classics: bursting with invention, brimming with dreamy melodies, insanely catchy hooks and contemplative, intriguing lyrics. The sort of songs where, even if you'd only contributed one chord change in the middle eight, you'd die happy.
For me, the apex of these highlights is the swooningly romantic 'Smothered In Hugs', in which a blurry, unhurried cascade of churning chords is topped with a melody that begs to have words like 'aching' and 'yearning' thrown at it. The vocal delivery shifts between a pensive croon ('in the summer that you came'), desperate longing ('you can teach me all you know') and withering scorn ('it was really such a pity'). Calling it 'romantic' references the overall, enveloping sound of the track - it's a very fitting title - rather than the lyrical content. At times, there's actually a fantasy / sci-fi / gothic-horror tone ('And the watchers of the flood were busy in their chambers / making sure there was new blood to sustain their dying veins'). But overall, there's a sense of a tribute to an unbreakable relationship rooted in dogged optimism about the future: 'Which way will we go now / on our trip to taller windows?'
Although I would argue that the sequencing of the album is (like Propeller and Vmpire on Titus) a key strength, it is also true that BeeThousand is front-loaded with its very best tracks. In particular, it opens with a trio of songs that make as powerful an introduction as pretty much any album I can think of. (Other candidates: Blood On The Tracks, The Velvet Underground, Grand Prix, Bug, Seamonsters, Your Future Our Clutter, Cammell Laird Social Club, Reckoning.)
'Hey Hey, Spaceman' celebrated the pre-adolescent 'carefree world of opportunity' joys of hanging out after school. In 'Hardcore UFO's' (much as I love the song, that superfluous apostrophe does annoy me), the naive space age excitement has been replaced by something more grown-up and knowing; the unbridled, optimistic 'faith in camaraderie' has turned into a more world-weary recognition that connections can easily be broken: 'Are you hoping for a contact? / I'll be with you, without you'; 'Back and forth, but you know why I left you for so long.'
And whilst 'Spaceman' was laced with breezy optimism and suggested summer afternoons clambering into the treehouse, 'UFOs' is imbued with a darker, more regretful tone and focuses more on the pursuits of the later teens: 'Playing solos 'til ten / are you amplified to rock?'
This lyrical contrast is echoed musically: the light, nimble arpeggios of 'Spaceman' give way to a ragged barrage of distorted guitar that meanders defiantly, constantly flirting with discordance. The DIY home-recording aesthetic is prominent (for example in the apparent tape splice at 0:54, or when the main guitar part cuts out shortly afterwards) but never feels forced or overly knowing.
The darkly gnarled 'Buzzards and Dreadful Crows' bursts from the speakers with a malevolent energy, tossing around images of death ('They wait like cats and fly out / for the light in my eyes to die out') with nonchalant disdain ('I'd be bored and disappointed if they didn't'). 'Tractor Rape Chain' takes a slower, more pensive approach, but is still a heady, gravelly whirl. The title is a little jarring from a contemporary perspective, but I presume it's metaphorical (rape as in rapeseed, yeah?), part of a cynical deconstruction of a doomed relationship ('parallel lines on a slow decline').
Jagged seas that can't be sailed
Despite this front-loading, there are still some of those 'nailed-on classics' to be found in the second half of the album. 'I Am A Scientist' is sparse and fragile, the delicately bubbly bass and barely-in-tune guitars giving the impression of a song on the verge of falling apart - a compelling counterpoint to the calm, measured vocal that heads into reflective, philosphical territory ('I seek to understand me') before resolving into a conclusion that's simultaneously resigned and optimistic ('Everything works out right / everything fades from sight / because that's alright with me').
The spindly little guitar line that runs through 'Queen Of Cans And Jars' is a little reminscient of The Fall's 'How I Wrote Elastic Man'; there is a touch of Fall-ness too in its rickety textures and megaphone(ish) vocals. However, this piece of rueful soul-searching ('To see the light and try but fail / on jagged seas that can't be sailed') has a touchingly delicate, poignant melody that would have been rather out of place on Grotesque or Hex Enduction Hour.
Springsteen on hallucinogens
The above octet of absolutely top-drawer tracks are all, despite the unkempt production values and ragged edges, relatively traditional structures. But there are other highlights that come in a looser form.
To continue the theme, there were many Fall songs that consisted of a carefully-constructed instrumental track that the band had developed in the studio, over which Mark E Smith, returning from an afternoon in the pub, would casually improvise a vocal loosely based on the random phrases he'd just scribbled on the back of a fag packet. 'Hot Freaks' seems to take a similar approach: Pollard, over a snaky, understated blues riff, delivers an apparently extemporized speak-sing vocal that's enjoyably seedy and laced with innuendo.
'Demons are Real' is a brief squall of feedback-drenched spasms with a disconcertingly abstract, Springsteen-on-hallucinogens lyric ('Squeaky was a sad child, the product of neglect / got stung by a jellyfish demanding her respect').
Other songs have a distinctly 'collage' feel. 'Ester's Day' opens with a burst of muffled, urgent sequencer before morphing into a graceful acoustic ballad with a stately, anthemic chorus. The swampish, lurching blues of 'A Big Fan Of The Pigpen' is appended by a hoarse gust of primitve garage rock. 'Her Psychology Today' is a spledidly frenetic blend of Sonic Youth dissonance and math-rock angularity.
As for the quieter moments... 'Peep-Hole' is a piece of melodious campfire whimsy, its slightly cloying lyric ('your house... smells so nice / your house always looks so nice... I love you, I must confess') offset well by the abrasively lo-fi sound. Closing track 'You're Not An Airplane' has the same 'hand-held-tape-recorder' feel. A plaintive piano piece that wouldn't sound out of place on After The Gold Rush, it has a stately grandeur that's genuinely moving. It's one of those tracks that, in my 'big playlist on shuffle' days, probably sounded frustratingly fragmentary - but taken in context, it provides an elegant coda. 'Awful Bliss' has greater clarity, fidelity-wise, and has a more serious tone, its stirring melody delivered with thoughtful dignity.
'Yours To Keep' is another 'context' song. Taken in isolation, it feels rather half-formed and inconsequential - but, when listening to the album 'properly', it forms a cannily curated bridge between 'Smothered In Hugs' and 'Echos Myron'.
The best of the downbeat numbers is 'The Goldheart Mountaintop Queen Directory', an austere yet brittle anthem that sees Pollard visit both the top and bottom of his register. There's a druggy, dream-like quality to the lyric ('Cold hands touching my face / don't hide, the snake can see you').
Surprising darkness
Which leaves us with just a couple of songs. The sprightly 'Kicker of Elves' has a catchy hook, although there's a surprising darkness to the lyric: 'The sickly sweet milk of selfish love / and knife these for warm fresh blood.' It's another that feels somewhat ephemeral on its own, but fits snugly between 'Her Psychology Today' and 'Ester's Day'.
Although by no means a bad song, 'Mincer Ray' is the weakest link. There are snatches of uplifting melody, and it has the trademark carefree raggedness; however, it feels a little pedestrian in this illustrious company.
After the enjoyably sideways step of Vampire On Titus, Bee Thousand has much more in common with Propeller. And, as was the case with that album, there's a sense of things being honed and perfected; raised to a higher level.
Also - and I'm conscious that I've banged on about this a great deal already - the sequencing of Bee Thousand is an integral part of its appeal. It simply flows as well as any other LP I can think of: a giddy carousel of sounds and ideas that are miraculously forged into a coherent whole. The songs that seemed - back when I was listening to the back catalogue on shuffle - frustratingly fragmentary and undeveloped, now feel like carefully positioned chapters in a meticulously planned story.
The band radiate a constant state of excitment about the fecund vein of creativity that they've tapped into; despite its slender running time, Bee Thousand crams in what feels like a lifetime of creativity. It's not perfect - a couple of tracks are a little slight, even if they do fit well into the flow - but there's no iconoclasm here: Bee Thousand more than lives up to its reputation.
Added to the 'GBV Favourites' playlist:
Pretty much all of it...
- Hardcore UFOs
- Buzzards and Dreadful Crows
- Tractor Rape Chain
- The Goldheart Mountaintop Queen Directory
- Hot Freaks
- Smothered In Hugs
- Echos Myron
- Gold Star For Robot Boy
- Awful Bliss
- A Big Fan Of The Pigpen
- Queen Of Cans And Jars
- Her Psychology Today
- Ester's Day
- Demons are Real
- I Am A Scientist
- You're Not An Airplane
Album rank:
1. 9.1 Bee Thousand
2. 8.7 Propeller
3. 7.9 Vampire On Titus
4. 7.6 Self-Inflicted Aerial Nostalgia
5. 7.1 Same Place The Fly Got Smashed
6. 7.0 Sandbox
7. 6.6 Devil Between My Toes
Other News
- After managing roughly a post a week for the few albums, I note that I have already slowed down a little: the last couple have edged towards a two-week gap. This is partly because my obsessive nature means that I simply have to write something about every song, and the number of tracks on each LP has shown a generally increasing trend (14, 12, 14, 14, 15, 18, 20). Looking ahead, I see that the pattern for the next four is 28 / 18 / 19 / 21, so I can't see the pace picking up dramatically.
- In addition, I started four and a half weeks' worth of annual leave a few days ago. Whilst this might suggest that I'd more time for the blog, the converse is actually true: work involves lots of long car journeys and hotel stays - ideal for listening and writing.
- Anyway, my domestic situation (the twins are now 21 months old) means that I don't have a hope in hell of maintaining the pace I managed with my Fall blogs. I guess I should resign myself to the fact that I may well have retired by the time I finish the GBV albums (let alone the singles, EPs, side projects, etc.) And that's fine: after all, some things are more important even than writing about music...
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