DANDY WARHOLS – THE DANDY WARHOLS COME DOWN (CAPITOL)
The Dandy Warhols were never cool. Their credentials were hip and to be honest their music was never mind-blowing good. With this their career came and went much in the same way one record chancers such as Bush would manage to etch out a career (well, income stream) in one foul swoop. Then suddenly Dig! came out and suddenly the band were viewed in a whole new/different light. Unfortunately it just came too late for them.
When the Dandy Warhols broke in the mainstream it was with a real sense of cashing in on the final days of cashing in on the alternative nation. With this the band rocked a look that appeared druggy and weird and would pull stunts such as having their lesbian keyboard player perform encores topless. What a statement, so forced.
As with bands such as The Strokes this was an “indie” act that found themselves bigger in the UK than they were in their home country. This must be such a disorientating and polarising sense of accomplishment and the manner within which the UK music press was set up being that the coverage was weekly and actually more national than the US being a tastemaker nation if done right our scene was an easy nut to crack.
Then there was the thing with the Brian Jonestown Massacre that pretty much absolutely nobody knew about at the time. If only Anton Newcombe’s plan to turn them into the new Blur vs Oasis had have come off what a great set of appearances on Top Of The Pops that would have produced. Brian Jonestown Massacre didn't get the career of the Dandy Warhols but they definitely had better songs.
This was their second album and the one with the hits. I have to concede I have great memories of getting drunk and dancing at an indie disco to “Every Day Should Be A Holiday”, a song that always for always be too closely for comfort resembled “Hungry Like A Wolf” by Duran Duran.
What always let the band down was just how weedy their guitar sound was. This did not feel like a rock band let alone a cutting edge alternative act. They may have had the look of something interesting and dangerous but painfully all too often that would prove to be style over substance.
Certainly the band does not help things by opening the album with seven minutes of nothing. “Be In” is a frustrating cart of aimless noodling and gradual growth, the sort of thing that sounds great when you’re fucked up on drugs.
Then they drop the first single of the album with “Boys Better”. Its actually a pretty decent soup of many sounds that delivers a catchy hook of empty sentiments and silly intentions. Its vacant in exploration so it is best to just hang onto the snappy parts that glisten. Noticeably high in the mix are the keyboards. Pia was not to be outshined.
With “Minesotter” the band sounds like Brian Jonestown Massacre. Whether this was intention or even maybe actually vice versa is open to debate. Then Courtney opens his mouth and he sounds like Black Francis. Were they going for the Pixies on downers?
“Not If You Were The Last Junkie On Earth” with hindsight now feels written directly about Anton Newcombe. This is probably their most famous track, certainly the one with the most controversial set of lyrics although the actual message of the song is quite open to debate. It was quite relieving to hear in Dig! that the band hated the video for the song. Sure enough they looked like prats in it. Then three minutes later it is over and I am none the wiser about the world and certainly far from feeling like I am under the influence.
There was always a shoegaze and psychedelic side to the band that for me would remind of Echo And The Bunnyman (certainly with “Good Morning” on this record). Ultimately though these songs were just not catchy.
Late on the album serves up “Cool As Kim Deal” next to “Hard On For Jesus” as you can’t help but feel this was the band trying too hard, to take weird swipes at one icon while endeavouring to garner favour from another. And vice versa. Except the band just wasn’t in with these circles. That said I have to express a fondness for the latter.
It all ends with “The Creep Out” as the album crumbles to a mess. They just had too much time and budget to explore these things.
A comedian (Robin Ince) gave me this CD while he was having a clearout. About halfway through the disc gives up the ghost as initially it repeatedly skips, and then drops out before eventually spinning to a halt. This is a fine metaphor.
Thesaurus moment: fabricate.
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