I'm going out on a limb and a half here, cause I wasn't around in the mid-to-late 70's, but I'm gathering that there was a subversive strain of pop music that sounded like a lot of fun, and arguably soundtracked the good times, but that if you listened closely was really about the emptiness of said goodtimes*. Steely Dan undeniably falls into this category, and I think this album might too.
These are hook-filled tales of everyday life, but there's a desperation and resignation and frustration lurking just under the surface of each. And sometimes even on the surface. And sometimes even ripping through the surface and throwing a hissyfit.
On their own, each works. The pop hookiness is fairly choice; Joel is undeniably a talented songwriter, a good piano player, and a tuneful (if unadventurous) singer. And when the sentiment stays understated it can be cutting.
But the two sides run counter to each other: the disdain is too surrounded in hook-grasping to really bite, and it in turn is a drag on any pop joy you might otherwise find. The result is a strangely empty album, full of good ideas and good executions that somehow don't find eachother in any satisfying way. Maybe you had to be there 3/5
* if you think that shit's empty, wait around till the 80's when shit being not real really gets real
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment