LEMONHEADS – IT’S A SHAME ABOUT RAY (ATLANTIC RECORDS)
The Lemonheads were a really strange outfit. Riding on the coat tales of all the Sub Pop cool bands I knew DM wearing grunge thugs that could/would get all gooey over the songs on this album. In this something smelled fishy and wrong in the alternative nation.
I never really jumped two footed into the Lemonheads experience. Sure I bought (into) “Mrs Robinson” when it came out as a single but I was never fully convinced and after having this record repeatedly shoved down by throat by one of the said grunge thugs it was only out of a sense of immediate nostalgia (and bargain) that I finally bought this record.
When Evan Dando popped up in Reality Bites it made a lot of sense. He was all too photogenic to be the kind of fuck up that felt genuine, sincere and trustworthy. He didn’t stand for what we stood for, when he fucked up there was always going to be somebody there to bail him out. You just knew it. Such is life.
It’s A Shame About Ray is a good college rock album showering occasionally great pop songs. I’m not sure that its author ever really claimed it as anything else, only the powers that be selling it onto Generation X were happy to lump it in with the good and bad fuzzy revolution that had arrived dead on arrival.
The album opens with “Rockin Stroll”, a mindless happy drawl and then in “Confetti”, it continues with a prized subtle stomper of a song that offers so much, one of those clever songs that you seem to know/recognise immediately from keen songwriting and joyful repetition.
Listening back to this record now so many years later it actually feels as if it has more in common with the UK indie scene of the time as opposed to the grunge led market it was lumped in with for commercial reasons.
As the record reaches its title track it offers up the kind of material to justify the hype attached to the release, supplying a hook so succulent you want to taste it.
With Juliana Hatfield on board she seemed to lend a fine degree of balance to the record, potentially helping Dando rail things in at times while Tom Morgan of Smudge helped excessively with the songwriting.
“Rudderless” is an interesting song on the album, listened to too intently the musically the band sound lumbering and basic but it all gets carried triumphantly by more lyrical repetition that successfully serves to stick in the mind. There is no doubting Dando had a way with words.
Borrowing perhaps a bit too heavily from “Dirty Work” by Steely Dan, “(My Drug) Buddy” is one of those gushers that could/would see the roughest grunge thug completely taken in and charmed by the Lemonheads. Describing some kind of dysfunctional drug happy relationship (enhanced by Hatfield’s backing vocals), the Hammond runs strong in this song as you sense this is the kind of autobiographical that the Evan Dando experience is all about. As much as any other song in their catalogue this is what made people fawn in this direction.
After starting extremely strongly from here the album begins to peter out. “Bit Part” lends a bit of life to proceedings but there is no hiding the fact that as the songs begin to bring girls names into their titles (including “Alison’s Starting To Happen” which regards Alison Galloway of Smudge) the album turns wet as a rot sets in.
The album closes on two cover versions in the form of “Frank Mills” from the musical Hair and the aforementioned star making “Mrs Robinson” which has always felt cynically and tactically tagged onto the end of the record; somewhat out of sync/place with proceedings (indeed it wasn’t on original pressings of the album).
For the record the Ray in question is an old club owner from back in the day and the actual title “It’s A Shame About Ray” originates from a line that Dando read in a Sydney newspaper article about a kid called “Ray” and the bad things therewith.
An album lacking sustained staying power, ultimately this was probably the element that stunted the Lemonheads through their career.
Thesaurus moment: element.
Lemonheads
The Lemonheads were a really strange outfit. Riding on the coat tales of all the Sub Pop cool bands I knew DM wearing grunge thugs that could/would get all gooey over the songs on this album. In this something smelled fishy and wrong in the alternative nation.
I never really jumped two footed into the Lemonheads experience. Sure I bought (into) “Mrs Robinson” when it came out as a single but I was never fully convinced and after having this record repeatedly shoved down by throat by one of the said grunge thugs it was only out of a sense of immediate nostalgia (and bargain) that I finally bought this record.
When Evan Dando popped up in Reality Bites it made a lot of sense. He was all too photogenic to be the kind of fuck up that felt genuine, sincere and trustworthy. He didn’t stand for what we stood for, when he fucked up there was always going to be somebody there to bail him out. You just knew it. Such is life.
It’s A Shame About Ray is a good college rock album showering occasionally great pop songs. I’m not sure that its author ever really claimed it as anything else, only the powers that be selling it onto Generation X were happy to lump it in with the good and bad fuzzy revolution that had arrived dead on arrival.
The album opens with “Rockin Stroll”, a mindless happy drawl and then in “Confetti”, it continues with a prized subtle stomper of a song that offers so much, one of those clever songs that you seem to know/recognise immediately from keen songwriting and joyful repetition.
Listening back to this record now so many years later it actually feels as if it has more in common with the UK indie scene of the time as opposed to the grunge led market it was lumped in with for commercial reasons.
As the record reaches its title track it offers up the kind of material to justify the hype attached to the release, supplying a hook so succulent you want to taste it.
With Juliana Hatfield on board she seemed to lend a fine degree of balance to the record, potentially helping Dando rail things in at times while Tom Morgan of Smudge helped excessively with the songwriting.
“Rudderless” is an interesting song on the album, listened to too intently the musically the band sound lumbering and basic but it all gets carried triumphantly by more lyrical repetition that successfully serves to stick in the mind. There is no doubting Dando had a way with words.
Borrowing perhaps a bit too heavily from “Dirty Work” by Steely Dan, “(My Drug) Buddy” is one of those gushers that could/would see the roughest grunge thug completely taken in and charmed by the Lemonheads. Describing some kind of dysfunctional drug happy relationship (enhanced by Hatfield’s backing vocals), the Hammond runs strong in this song as you sense this is the kind of autobiographical that the Evan Dando experience is all about. As much as any other song in their catalogue this is what made people fawn in this direction.
After starting extremely strongly from here the album begins to peter out. “Bit Part” lends a bit of life to proceedings but there is no hiding the fact that as the songs begin to bring girls names into their titles (including “Alison’s Starting To Happen” which regards Alison Galloway of Smudge) the album turns wet as a rot sets in.
The album closes on two cover versions in the form of “Frank Mills” from the musical Hair and the aforementioned star making “Mrs Robinson” which has always felt cynically and tactically tagged onto the end of the record; somewhat out of sync/place with proceedings (indeed it wasn’t on original pressings of the album).
For the record the Ray in question is an old club owner from back in the day and the actual title “It’s A Shame About Ray” originates from a line that Dando read in a Sydney newspaper article about a kid called “Ray” and the bad things therewith.
An album lacking sustained staying power, ultimately this was probably the element that stunted the Lemonheads through their career.
Thesaurus moment: element.
Lemonheads
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