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One Fresh Spin, One Old Gem
By Marc Stephens
If you’ve spent
the past 25 years wondering where the late Karen Carpenter’s
musical soul got to — and who hasn’t? — then look no further.
The Pernice
Brothers are without doubt the Carpenters of the new millennium,
more masculine and energetic but still worshiping at the same
pristine pop altar, come what may. Cheesy keyboards, overwrought
strings, soft romantic vocals: It’s all here and then some, even
down to the inescapable AM-style harmonies and guitar solos made
familiar by heyday Carpenters’ hits like "Goodbye to Love."
If this sounds
like a gratuitous broadside at Joe Pernice & Co., think again.
Appreciating Live a Little and the rest of their
catalogue may be somewhat embarrassing, or even (gasp) “uncool,”
but sometimes being uncool simply can’t be helped. What musical
grinch wouldn’t be won over by “PCH One’s” lullabied chorus, or
the smitten perfection of “Microscopic View,” whose signature
line (“You’re more eccentric every year …”) can be applied to
just about every relationship since Cleopatra?
The band’s
ability to nurture and maintain a mood is also extraordinary;
too many indie records today lurch from song to song like cars
veering off a wet road, but Joe Pernice and his lilting
exhalations can be counted on to unfailingly guide the listener
from light to dark and back again, with nary a misstep in
between. Diehard punk or metal fans be warned that stumbling
anywhere near auditory range of Live a Little will likely
turn you and all your worldly possessions to stone. But the
moral of the story: There are still a few morsels of love and
sweetness left in the world, and Joe Pernice is working overtime
to corner the market.
Camel had roots
in so many highly revered progressive rock bands that the
beatific designation “supergroup” wouldn’t have been at all
inappropriate. Featuring veterans of the Wilde Flowers, Caravan
and Happy the Man just for starters, through the years Camel’s
incestuous revolving membership comprised a veritable Who’s Who
of the famed British art-rock scene. Their greatest hits
compilations are certainly worth checking out, but it was the
band’s move toward the pop mainstream on 1978’s Breathless
that really made for some interesting and focused music.
The late ’70s
saw numerous acts successfully meld the overwrought
orchestrations of art-rock with the shorter, catchier aspects of
traditional pop, among them Be Bop Deluxe, Genesis and even
Rush. The charged impatience of punk and disco did much to
render the staid progressive juggernauts irrelevant; after all,
with hyperactive three-minute escapism the order of the day, who
had time for pompous 12-minute digressions on mythology or the
nuances of medieval warfare? So Camel adapted, and beginning
with its immortal title track, Breathless is blessed with
some of the most gorgeous romantic dedications you’ll ever hear.
Fret not, prog fans — the band’s progressive guitars and
signature keyboards haven’t been totally thrown overboard. But
just how does lead vocalist Richard Sinclair invest his soaring
notes on “Breathless” with such naked emotion? Moreover, he
shares vocal duties with guitarist Andy Latimer, whose flute
work and layered performance on “A Wing and a Prayer,” while not
quite as spectacular, still pierce the heart with pastoral
immediacy. True, a smidgen of forgiveness on the listener’s part
is probably essential to enjoy this record, thanks to its dated
(and inevitable) ’70s excesses. But if Breathless proves
anything, it’s that an established band’s most stimulating and
distinctive output can often spring from a shift in direction.
Marc Stephens
is a Web consultant by day, writer by night. Comments? E-mail
sunpostmusic1 at bellsouth.net.
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Marc Stephens
is a Web consultant by day, writer by night. Comments? E-mail
sunpostmusic1 at bellsouth.net. |
