Extreme Listening Mode!

Well, ELM is recovering from the disappointment of our aborted Hold Steady trip by looking forward to the weekend with hope and expectation. For if there is anything in life which can inspire one to move forward with vigour and engage our restless spirit, it’s the prospect of a couple of days off and some booze. What can we say – we are men of simple pleasures.

Indeed, it’s the feeling of optimism which has engulfed us which informs this weeks Friday 5. We often concentrate on the misanthropic in this section, making fun of people more talented than us, and Keane. But today’s instalment offers something different.

I was listening to the new Jenny Lewis and CSS albums, both of which have received decent, if not ecstatic reviews. Having listened to both albums a few times, it’s clear they are both, taken as they are with no preconceptions, excellent albums. However, they both suffer from the same problem. Both acts were following up exceptional debut offerings. With that in mind, the levels of expectation were heightened to levels where they simply couldn’t deliver a good album; anything less than a truly superb album would be a disappointment. And so it proved.

So today’s 5 is all about re-appraisal, a second chance. Today’s list is all about rehabilitation. Albums which were greeted with disappointment or derision but have since shown themselves to be quality works.

The Smiths – Strangeways, Here We Come

The Smiths’ final album is possibly their finest, but upset a lot of fans on its release by, well, not sounding entirely like The Smiths. To be fair, it came against a backdrop of the bands messy split; and Smiths fans were (and are) a fairly emotive bunch, so may not have been clear-headed in their reviews. Gone, mostly, are the jangling guitars and layered acoustic sounds of previous work. In their place come experimentation, weirdness and some truly superb music.

Opener ‘A Rush And A Push And The Land We Stand On Is Ours’ wrong-footed many with it’s distinctive electric piano and xylophone (yep) sound. ‘Paint A Vulgar Picture’ is as good a decimation of false rock gods as any and in the neurotic, world-weary ‘The Death Of A Disco Dancer’ they band may have written their finest song. It ends, as does the bands story, with the stunning mandolin ballad ‘I Won’t Share You’, which seemed to be more about Morrissey and Marr than anybody else and provided a suitably valedictory ending.

Television – Adventure

‘Marquee Moon’ is, not to put too fine a point on it, one of the best albums ever released by anyone, ever. It’s follow-up is merely excellent, but has been reduced to the level of footnote in rock history. True, there isn’t a ‘Venus’ or MM’s title track here, but that’s hardly a crime. Verlaine and Lloyd still play guitars like no-one else, thrilling with their interplay and inventiveness.

U2 – Zooropa

Seen mainly as a ‘holding’ album, this was a bit of a curio recorded and released in the seemingly never-ending ‘ZOO TV’ tour. Conventional wisdom has it that it was the band at their most self-indulgent and, to be honest, there is an element of mad ego on display here. But that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Genuine, honest U2 are very earnest and very, very dull.

There was a lot going on here and some of it is amongst their finest work. ‘Numb’ still sounds fresh and vital 15 years on, while ‘Stay’ is possibly their least affected (and therefore, best) love songs. The deal-sealer is the superb ‘The Wanderer’, where they enlisted Johnny Cash to sing over a throbbing bass-line redolent of Magazine’s ‘Song From Under The Floorboards’ and backed by a mewling Bono-as-coyote, creating a sort of cyberpunk Western feel. it’s extraordinary. They’d complete the best era of their career with ‘Pop’ and then, for some reason, return to bombastic stadium rock. Undeniably though, the 90′s were this group’s creative peak.

R.E.M. – Monster

R.E.M.’s worst album till 2004′s career nadir ‘Around The Sun’, this isn’t actually as bad as people made it out to be. It’s spoiled by the production (Peter Buck had bought a fuzz pedal and wasn’t afraid to use it; consequently, every song sounds the same.) There are too many jokey moments which just don’t work (‘Tongue’.) But with songs like the effervescent ‘What’s The Frequency, Kenneth?’ and the sublime Kurt Cobain tribute ‘Let Me In’, the Georgians showed they hadn’t completely lost their muse. Not for a decade, anyway.

Pulp – This Is Hardcore

Following up ‘Different Class’ was always going to be impossible, so credit to Sheffield’s finest for attempting something different. And different it was – dark, gloomy, brooding, it was a million miles away from ‘Disco 2000′. The title track, a groaning, grinding apocalyptic racket was, memorably, dusted down as a single by a record label who clearly didn’t have a clue what to do with this. If ‘Different Class’ was the soundtrack to Britpop’s party summer of 1995, ‘This Is Hardcore’ was a reflection of the hangover; confused, anxious, scared and not comfortable with anything.

It’s a difficult record, and by no means a great one, but certainly better than it was reviewed back in 97. It came out to reviews which weren’t so much critical as openly hostile. A decade later, it marks the perfect end to the Pulp story.

So, I feel like a Probation Officer waving an ex-offender into a legitimate job.

Anyway, have a great weekend guys and drink sensibly….