For the longest time, it looked as if pop metal (or glam metal, or hair metal: pick your term) was dead in the water, relegated to being just another oldies channel on satellite radio. Many bands from that era between 1983 and 1991 kept soldiering on through the ‘90s and early-‘00s, but they all sounded so hopelessly lost, desperately trying to keep up with the times by resorting to such gimmicks as tuning down to grunge that sound more, or employ more blatantly pandering ideas to make it seem they were more “alternative”. In the process, they all lost touch with what made them so great, so fun in the process, and by 1996 MTV was running a “where are they now?” special about pop metal bands that remains one of the saddest metal docs I’ve seen since The Decline of Civilization Part Two. All the musicians they interviewed sounded so lost, almost in disbelief that decade of decadence had ended so abruptly.
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Jun Hyoseong—“Into You”
After making her solo debut last year with “Goodnight Kiss”, Secret’s Hyoseong is back with a new mini-album, Fantasia. But the songs are more Fantasia 2000 than the Disney original, focusing on a throwback ‘90s sound. The title track, “Into You”, practically lifts its chord progression and synth melody from the Spice Girls classic “Say You’ll Be There”. Despite the similarity, “Into You” stands on its own as a catchy, sexy song to showcase Hyoseong’s talents.
The video in particular is sure to show off her… um, talents, as well. Hyoseong is known for being confident and self-assured in her sex appeal and curvy body, which the “Into You” music video makes perfectly clear. There seems to be some sort of framing device of someone watching old VHS tapes, but mostly this is an excuse to get the singer into different sexy outfits and leer seductively into the camera. It works for the song, which is about Hyoseong falling deep in lust-at-first-sight. “Into You” might not be the most innovative song to be released in K-pop lately, and it might not even be stronger than her solo debut, but it’s fun and sexy. Plus, we can always use more Spice Girls allusions.
”Fill me innocently / When I have caved completely / With your talk of chances / The ones you never take.”
The third song on Kill the Lights, “Severance Denied”, fixates on spiritual and literal malnourishment. With the harrowing specter of “Slightly Dazed” still very much present, almost unwilling to recede, the thought of going through something like it all over again is off-putting. It would seem that the band felt much the same way, and as such, “Severance Denied” brings the tempo and the mood up a bit—although here, “up” is a very relative term.
Sometimes, you stumble onto a band that you know will take over the world. The first time I saw the early version of St. Paul and the Broken Bones, I was speechless. They have wisely grown into a seasoned band, without letting the hype outshine their shows, nor becoming jaded with their early success.
Klinger: Not too long ago, Judd Apatow released the film This Is 40, about a struggling record label owner who was facing down his own middle age. I was really looking forward to the movie, in part because the main character (Paul Rudd) was on a quixotic quest to reignite the career of one of his musical idols, Graham Parker. Much like Rudd’s character, I was hoping that This Is 40 might get a few more people interested in someone whose music I’ve loved for decades. And much like Rudd’s character, I ended up disappointed, because Parker is portrayed as a crotchety old oddball (which he might actually be) and because Apatow was not, as it turns out, a great arbiter of hip, and Parker’s career remains relatively unignited.
For my money, though, one listen to Squeezing Out Sparks, Parker’s fourth album, could be what does the trick. Squeezing Out Sparks is the sound of a band (the Rumour) firing on all cylinders to back up a vocalist and lyricist who is singing and writing as if his life depended on it. And without being overdramatic about it, it kind of was. By 1979, Parker and the Rumour had achieved considerable acclaim with their punchy R&B-based sound, but sales had not met expectations and the group left Mercury for Arista. Smart move. Producer Jack Nitzsche (who — jeez, Google his stats), helped them hone their sound to a razor sharp edge, making tracks like “Discovering Japan” and “Protection” absolutely indelible. To me, anyway. You?
Mendelsohn: Yeah, Squeezing Out Sparks is a solid album — enjoyable from start to finish. Except for “You Can’t Be Too Strong”. While it’s nice to see someone addressing the matter of abortion in such a frank fashion, that song just makes me squeamish. But overall, we get to see a band really clicking behind a songwriter finding renewed vigor thanks to a push from one of the greatest producers to ever sit behind the mixing boards. And just for the record, the best part of Googling Jack Nitzsche is learning about his appearance on the TV show COPS. The police arrested an inebriated Nitzsche after he pulled a gun on a couple of kids who stole for stealing his hat. But then, I guess that’s what happens when you wear a silly hat and spend too much time with Phil Spector.
Anyway, this isn’t the first time I’ve been told to listen to Graham Parker. A friend of mine discovered the charms of Parker a couple of years ago and tried to bring me on board. I ignored his overtures because I was already contractually obligated to listen to something else at the time, probably a Neil Young record or some such nonsense. Plus, the few songs my friend played for me immediately reminded me of Elvis Costello and the Arctic Monkeys. I thought to myself, “Why bother when I can go listen to those other bands who are obviously superior to Parker?” Looking back at that event, I realize I was wrong to think that way — not only because Parker’s album is worth the listen, but that sort of closed-minded mentality limits my musical intake and will eventually lead me down a road of narrow focus, which ends in me listening to nothing but Radiohead.
Klinger: Yes, not even Philip Selway would want you listening to nothing but Radiohead, and I just had to get on the Googler to find out which one he is. But, perhaps not surprisingly, I think you’re a bit off in a couple of places. The first is of course when you put off listening to something because it may not measure up completely to something you like, but we’ve been down that road often enough that I’m not going to press the issue. The second is your dismissal of “You Can’t Be Too Strong”. I understand that even talking about abortion is fraught with danger (was that the case in 1979? It can’t have been since they didn’t have the internet.), but Parker’s take on it, no matter how you feel about it, is so brutally, painfully, nakedly honest that you can’t turn away. It commands your attention, even if the narrator doesn’t command your respect. And because the song is wrapped in such an attractive melody, you somehow feel the sucker punch a little bit deeper.
Mendelsohn: Hey, I admitted fault. I should have listened to the record before passing judgment. I also have nothing against brutal honesty of “You Can’t Be Too Strong”, and quiet frankly, it might be one of the most heart-breaking songs I’ve ever heard come off of wax. And that’s great, but it’s not he reason I listen to music. The problem is, it doesn’t jive with the escapism of rock and roll. You mean you can get pregnant from having sex? And then the involved parties will have to deal with said pregnancy? Golly. Just give me the sex and the drugs and the rock and roll without all the unintended consequences. It’s just easier to look past the ugly truth. I do the same thing with other hot-button issues — like evolution, global warming, and gravity. I can’t help it if they are always bringing me down.
Klinger: Interesting thing about the song: Parker claims in his fascinating liner notes to the CD reissue that “You Can’t Be Too Strong” was originally written as a faster, more countrified song. It was Nitzsche who forced Parker and the Rumour to stop hiding behind whiplash arrangements and bar-band playing so that the songs could breathe on their own. As a result, the members of the Rumour (most of whom were veterans of other relatively successful pub-rock bands) stopped sniggering at Parker’s songwriting and really buckled down. On the other hand, Parker and the Rumour drifted apart shortly after this album, so maybe the troubles ran both ways. At any rate, it’s pretty clear that Squeezing Out Sparks was an album that was borne of frustration, with a disgruntled band and an insecure leader and a label that was expecting too much for whatever reason, although the album did make the Top 40 in both the US and the UK, which strikes me as odd.
Mendelsohn: I don’t think it’s that odd. Squeezing Out Sparks is an excellent rock album. Its success can be pinned to a stable of upbeat power pop songs and was probably bolstered by a sonic likeness to Elvis Costello’s This Year’s Model, which had been released to great critical and commercial success the year before. I also don’t think its odd that Parker has remained just below the surface, never staking a lasting claim to success or influence. But again, I think Squeezing Out Sparks is a great example of the stars aligning to create great art. Parker wrote some top-notch tunes, the Rumour dropped their horn section in favor of a more stripped-down sound and Nitzsche managed to bring it altogether. Were they a little late to the party the New Wave Rock party? Probably? Is Squeezing Out Sparks missing that special something that drove Costello’s success? Maybe. But let me pose this conundrum. Let’s just say my friend didn’t do a very good job of selling me on Graham Parker. How would you have presented him to the uninitiated? How does Parker fit into the rock narrative?
Klinger: Presenting Parker to the uninitiated is complicated, because you still have to accept that Squeezing Out Sparks is an anomaly among his early classics, simply because it lacks that R&B backbone. But is it fair to suggest that he might have been (and might still be) the American Tom Petty? Both artists cut their teeth on the classics of the 1960s, including the British Invasion (or as it was known in the UK, the British Excursion), garage music and a little bit of soul. Both paid homage to their predecessors while still trying to stake out a new claim lyrically, and while Petty infused the Byrdsy chime of the electric Rickenbacker directly into the mix, Parker’s feel was invariably filtered via the pub rock of the time. And while both invariably get compared to Bruce Springsteen, each of them was doing something a good bit less grandiose.
Parker, however, was a tougher sell to the music industry, who had him opening for Journey in 1979 when he could have been out there building up his own following little by little, club gig by club gig (When will you learn, Music Industry? Oh that’s right—never). And of course, it didn’t help matters much that whatever was going on between him and the Rumour ended up coming to a head shortly not too awfully long after Squeezing Out Sparks. Follow-up album The Up Escalator was lacking, which is understandable, but after that Parker found himself struggling to navigate the new landscape that was the ‘80s. Either way, I’d like nothing more than for people to go back and (re)discover Squeezing Out Sparks, if for not other reason to prove that rock music can have all the sheen and polish of arena rock while still having a heart and a brain and, most of all, a soul.
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