Spoon: Gimme Fiction Review (Merge Records)
by Monte Holman
From the Drake Tungsten album and Telefono to Girls Can Tell and Kill the Moonlight, we've known Daniel to be a sonic scientist, layering vocal track upon vocal track and mixing sporadic, uneven guitar solos with Eno's surefire drumming, all in the name of wholesome, solid pop. Gimme Fiction takes those familiar Spoon antics and throws them into conversations with the band's predecessors, nodding to Bowie, the Stones, Motown, Brit pop, and indie gods like Yo La Tengo.
The opening track, "The Beast and Dragon Adored," establishes the tone of the record. It begins with studio chatter and tape hiss that usher in one of Spoon's greatest assets: Jim Eno. He's a gem of a drummer, producer, filter, adhesive, weapon. He knows when to restrain himself and when to let loose, no silly fills or cymbal wanks. He announces his huge presence on this record with a booming, almost distorted, simple tom hit. On top of Eno's foundational rhythm, Daniel builds a slinky Bondlike theme with powerful low-end keys and distorted guitars, complete with his characteristic "ah yeahs" and "awrights." Throughout, the bass and drums move the song while clips of shrill and distorted un-solos spew and spider. This track unleashes the record's rock and roll spirit: "When you don't feel it / it shows, they tear out your soul / when you believe / they call it rock and roll."
Gimme Fiction is wrought with Daniel's Brit-influenced vocal crooning, and the Beatles don't even need to be mentioned here. But he also shows his Bowie sex appeal and Jagger strut, particularly in "I Turn My Camera On," a minimal disco rehash. If ever there was a moment when singing in falsetto epitomized masculinity, this is it. Try not moving to this one -- if the disco drums and bass don't get you, the hip-hop samples will.
Daniel also presents smart lyrical ambiguities in songs like "My Mathematical Mind," which is primarily a political anthem. Line breaks like "I want to change / your mind" and "I want to change / your ways" are critical both of the speaker and the addressed (who, in all likelihood, is the leader of the free world). Elsewhere the phrases "no more riding the brakes / instead I'm gonna see the stakes" point out a boredom with political inactivity as the speaker accuses someone of setting up the Apocalypse without thinking about it. This is about as politically pointed as Spoon gets, I suppose, and in the end, as the lyrics go, Daniel doesn't sweat it.Between Eno's experienced ear and Daniel's penchant for sonic experimentation, Spoon comes out with a stunning sense of space. There are no holes on Gimme Fiction-each second seems deliberate. But the pair's heady approach doesn't take the life out of the songs. The rewinding tape noises, samples, bells, distortions, amp buzzes, backward tracking, handclaps, taped discussions and laughter-all of it gives the album immediacy and dimension. The recording seems complete but not finished. We feel the studio space; we witness the recording process and appreciate its outcome all in the same sitting.
Each tune possesses characteristics that make it distinct, memorable. For example, "Sister Jack" is pretty straightforward Americana fronted by big guitars, tambourines, handclaps, and a distinctly pop chord progression. Playful lyrics like "I was on the outside / I was looking in / I was in a drop-D metal band we called Requiem" give this song head-bobbing accessibility and, though everything is pleasant and tight, prepare listeners for a sort of pay-no-mind track. But Spoon doesn't let us fall asleep. Enter production experiments (backward tracks, noise), and just when we think the song will trail off into 4/4 repetitiveness, the time signature changes. Instrumental and vocal lines shift, and Spoon proves it is in the business of making smart records. No song is filler. No additive is excessive.
There's a 50s feel to some songs like the tom-heavy doo-wop ballad "I Summon You," which is perhaps the best song on the album, rich in love-lost minor chords and lamenting lyrics. "And now this little girl / she says will we make it at all? / 800 miles is a drive." And the album has a personally historic touch, especially "They Never Got You," which is a product of Spoon's heralded story of major label trickery, the fuck you from Elektra (aka "The Agony of Lafitte). Daniel cautions, "Cover your tracks / don't let the footholds start / don't let anyone in / cause they never got you / and you never got them." This one features prototypically Spoon handclaps plus knee slaps and ground stomps fit for a hoedown.
Spoon continues to put out records of intrigue, connected collections of songs rather than strings of singles. The band is able to combine rock classicism with stylish persona in a way that oozes staying power. And most importantly, Gimme Fiction flaunts Spoon's instinct for booty-shaking rock and roll.
Comments
Mr. Holman's evoked all the music hungry fibers to respond by immediately going to purchase this cd post haste...
Thank you!
Posted by: blanca | May 19, 2005 10:17 AM
what a fuckin review!
you made me love this record even more... which i didnt think was possible.
Posted by: nana | May 20, 2005 01:18 PM