songs
and other things – Tom
Verlaine (Thrill
Jockey/Inertia)
around – Tom Verlaine (Thrill
Jockey/Inertia)
Tom Verlaine’s the classic Disappearing Man - as most fans
of guitar with a memory only marginally longer than a list of deceased 
Grateful
Dead keyboard players would attest. The leader of Bowery scene avant-rockers
Television in the ‘70s, a solo artist with seven innovative albums to his
credit in the ‘80s
and ‘90s and the template for Lloyd Cole (bet the guy still wishes he could
play guitar like him) among others, Verlaine all but vanished after resurfacing
in a brief ’92
TV reformation. Collaborations with Jeff Buckley and Patti Smith maintained a
low-wattage spotlight thereafter. Television’s third coming in the late ‘00s
has provided only slightly more profile. A new studio album was pending from
that crew when these two releases bobbed up.
Who releases two albums simultaneously, both of them with enigmatic front cover
art that bereft of identification before the record company 
applied
stickers? And one of them (“Around”) is an instrumental? Answer:
Someone named after a dead French symbolist poet. In person he's probably one
of the nicest people alive, but popular perception is that Tom Verlaine is nothing
if not perverse. He was clearly pissed off with major label machinations when
he dropped out, but it took him 14 years to find his way into an indie label
as a solo artist? Rumour has it (and that’s
the only information we had until recently, as Verlaine mostly shuns interviews)
that there was a slew of complete album masters under the bed, awaiting release.
All the more reason to revel in these two discs, methinks.
Note to rockers, ageing or otherwise: If you expect “Songs And Other Things” to
tear you a new place to hook up your colostomy bag, look elsewhere. It’s
a sleeper that’s unassuming at times, occasionally frustratingly so, but
for those prepared to listen hard enough, it will reward. Verlaine’s vocals
(once dubbed “chicken strangling”) are an acquired taste. There’s
no “Cry Mercy Judge” or “Town Called Walker” rifferama,
nor anything of the commercial ilk of “Let Go the Mansion”, just
lots of absorbing textures and aural colours. That it doesn’t take the
obvious path is ultimately its strength.
The opener, “A Parade in Littleton”, is a rippling instrumental that,
although nice, makes for a low-key opening. Things get interesting straight after
that, with “Heavenly Charm” throwing up some supremely unearthly
sounds; Verlaine’s strangled guitar goes into its death throes as the rhythm
tracks bucks and flops around in a surreal approximation of a dying walrus. These
are some of the most off-the-wall sounds Verlaine’s ever conjured.
“Nice Actress” ups the ante in the ominous stakes, the engine room
of Patrick Derivaz (bass) and Louie Appel laying it down simply as the guitar
leads the way. “The Earth Is In the Sky”. “Shingaling” marries
an insistent guitar figure to off-hand vocals and things get playful.
Television fans will lap this up, even without the explosive solo-ing of Verlaine’s
frequent partner-in-guitar, Richard Lloyd. The only letdown might be the absence
(except on “All Weirded Out”) of collaborator Jimmy Ripp on guitar.
When Verlaine was churning out regular albums in the ‘80s, the economically-named
Ripp was his counterpoint, and he’s back in the live band that’s
touring this album.
“Peace Piece” is a low-key, instro closer that winds things up on
a slight note.
Speaking of, I felt the instrumental “Warm and Cool” was just that
for many years. The recent Thrill Jockey re-issue, with its generous
serving of bonus tracks, caused a radical re-assessment. It really is a great
late night album. “Around” is
a companion piece that similarly almost defies critical interpretation. (That
would probably please its maker, who doesn’t have much time for that sort
of thing). If you want to be pretentious, you could say that “Around” is
filled with 16 “pieces” - so described because many don’t fill
the conventional idea of “songs”. Think of this as the soundtrack
the Jetsons would play on their saucer’s sound system on a long interplanetary
weekend drive. Film noir soundtracks for movies shown on a different planet.
These are sparse, soaring and almost always atmospheric soundscapes, in which
Verlaine’s exquisite guitar weaves in and out of bare bones drums-and-bass
arrangements. Verlaine’s shimmering tone is unmistakable, but am I the
only one for whom it sometimes recalls those tapes of blue whale communication
they used to market to pre-natal mothers in the ‘80s? That analogy could
open up a whole new career phase as the Greenpeace house band.
I’ve heard it said that there’s a palpable tension in Verlaine’s
playing that sets him apart from just about any guitarist on this planet – and
I can’t do any better than that. It was inherent in that exciting live
version of “Marquee Moon” that came out on the bonus disc with the
career-summarising “The Miller’s Tale” collection a decade
ago. None of the tunes on either of these come close to that for raw excitement,
but that unasked question about where Tom’s going next is still there.
Verlaine might declaim his technical proficiency as a guitarist but there’s
no better player of the free-fall lead break. Long may it be so.
-
The Barman
1/2 -
songs and other things
- around