THE HOLD STEADY –
ALMOST KILLED ME (FRENCHKISS)
The Hold Steady
arrived firing on all cylinders from the word go. They came box fresh having earned their
stripes in various apprentice acts ahead of ascending on the show. In Craig Finn they house a killer front man
and amazing orator owning a crushing way with words as by his side is a loose
and fuzzy set of effective musicians playing pop hard. Initially/originally label mates of Les Savy
Fav there is a common thread in these early blunt gestures and prickly approach
with eventually would give way to bigger hooks and happier sensibilities. But on Almost Killed Me here is an act
playing as if their life depends on it.
That said Almost
Killed Me is something of a party album.
Being slightly older and more experience having already once been
through the indie rock wringer, at such an early stage in a band’s career its
player were able to bring a knowing approach to proceedings.
The cover features
punk splashed photos of indulgence and hedonism with the eyes of the
participants blocked out by black bars.
This without doubt is done to protect the innocent. And there isn’t much innocent about this
album.
Sounding like the
record The Replacements might have made were they from New York
Like a good book the
album begins with quite the intro and declaration of “Positive Jam”. As a vocal history lesson occurs eventually
the band catches up and kicks in as Finn sends command to the audience (“to all
you snivelling indie kids, hold steady”).
It is quite the address, heavy and lurching summoning much surrender.
From here the pace
seriously picks up stepping up a gear with “The Swish” and more bar room
anecdotes of past and present. The hooks
come hard and heavy as the words explain existing in excess and the places it
takes you.
God love a band that
says its own name in songs.
As the structure of
the stories progress so does the confidence of the band and its playing becomes
bolder. In other words here is a band
not afraid of a solo be it guitar as on “Most People Are DJs” or the Clarence
Clemons-esqe Springsteen saxophone of “Hostile, Mass”.
Rolling with the
punches the record features frequent appearances by a mysterious character
called Charlemagne offering some kind of Last Exit To Brooklyn attitude and
intrigue to proceedings.
It is on “Knuckles”
that things become ferociously first person.
There appears to be an identity trying to be attained. Missing the point it reminds me of George
Costanza trying to get the office to call him T-Bone in addition to my own
successful effort to establish my own nickname as JGRAM. This however is an altogether different
proposition, by being called Freddie Knuckles a badge of street honour is
looking to be owned. And it just isn’t
being attained. When drugs are involved
any experiment is dicey and the key thing is that the individual be a
survivor. With that achieved street
platitudes follow.
As with the clear
intro there is a clear outro in the postscript of “Killer Parties” with a drawn
out jam of pining nostalgia. In words it
is the sound of growing old and winding down with one eye looking back on
better days. It is the sound of maturity
mutating momentarily.
Remember when indie
rocks became stupid and started celebrating Bruce Springsteen? This notes for them. It might almost kill you too.
Thesaurus moment:
outlast.
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