Feeling funky today, kids. One of the joys of working in an office is the sharing of germs. Hopefully the sickness and ensuing medicine won't make me too groggy but I'll try to get this written as quickly as I can, regardless, so forgive any cold/flu induced delirium.
I spent yesterday's post writing about a guilty pleasure, so I figure why not keep a good thing going? Today's post is about a piece of music's forgotten lore, Garbage's self titled debut album. I only use the term guilty pleasure here, though, because of the fact that it seems to be largely forgotten by the quickly shifting focus of our collective media-memory. I suppose there was also the stigma of being in a small town where it was considered unusual to like music that wasn't country or any kind of oldies, but that's really beside the point. Rather than bore you with my own tales of growing up in the middle of nowhere I'll settle for telling you about this awesome and neglected album that deserves more attention and respect.
A sekrit favorite band of mine over the years, Garbage has origins that belie the typical 'friends jamming in a garage' story we've all heard so many times. Formed by a collection of veteran producers in the early 90s, the band was essentially a passion project for all involved, creating demos of their material in the spaces between regular production work. Butch Vig, whose work and reputation I've written about before, started the group with fellow Smart Studios producer Steve Marker and longtime mutual collaborator Duke Erickson, of the groups Spooner and Firetown. Rather than rob their own coffers for remixing other people's work, the three kept the material they were recording for themselves, all while keeping an eye out for a unique voice to compliment the sound they were creating. They found it in Scottish singer Shirley Manson, who left her own floundering career in the UK (mildly successful acts Goodbye Mr. Mackenzie and Angelfish) to audition for the group. Having made a good impression, she was welcomed to the fold and the group set to work on what would be their first album, written and recorded largely in Wisconsin.
The self titled album was an unexpected success. Riding in on the post-grunge alternative wave, Garbage had a refreshingly pop sound that brought the group widespread acclaim with massive radio hits like "Stupid Girl" "Vow" and "Only Happy When It Rains". By the mid 90s the country was tired of the dreary, angry tunes that had swept the 80s away. Grunge was on its way out, strange things were coming in. Pop punk was making huge waves with the likes of Rancid and The Offspring, Oasis released their career-defining What's The Story Morning Glory, and (good god) Jagged Little Pill by Alanis Morrisette came out that year, if that's no indication of the change. See what happened? Kurt Cobain died and took a lot of the self-loathing attitude with him, apparently. I wince at typing that, but the fundamental shift in popular music just a year after his death is remarkable. Radiohead released The Bends, No Doubt put out Tragic Kingdom, The Foo Fighters' excellent (and also under appreciated) first album debuted. Man, crazy year. In the midst of it, Garbage came out swinging with music that feels like it wasn't just written but designed from the ground up to catch you off guard. Almost lost in the sea of amazing music released in 1995, their debut album instantly clicked with my musical tastes, both fitting into them and expanding them.
The whole record is a fantastic piece of buzzy, edgy pop music that I still thoroughly enjoy today, 16 years later. Having veteran musicians backing the sultry Manson, it's no surprise the album has such a polished and fully realized sound, all buzzing guitars and thumping percussion. The bass bubbles just under the surface on every track. From the agressive and pushy album opener "Supervixen", to the throbbing "Heaven Is Wide", the songs breathe with their own lives. "Queer" was my bumping and humming intro to trip hop. The power-pop of "Not My Idea" punches you right in the ear. I remember hearing it at 13 and being amazed at the strange sound - a total shift from the angry grunge I loved but not the insipid pop on the local radio stations, it was a bizarre hybrid of the two. "Vow" has an disorienting intro of guitars flying from one headphone to the other, leading into a crunching chorus of crazy catchy chords. The single "Stupid Girl" is heavy disco drums and a leaping bass line, covered by a light and hooky, jangly guitar line over the top. Through all this Manson coos and growls, hisses and snaps. Never sticking to a single style, she gives every song her all, the passion of a band's make-or-break opportunity going to full throttle. The album ended up selling over 4 million copies and starting the band down their twisting path of group tensions followed by uneven, if at times amazing, follow-ups.
This album, while a mega seller, gets little to no love today. Sure, you hear one of their early singles on the radio once in a blue moon but it seems to be one of those albums that came, made a big impact then faded into the woodwork all too soon. It really deserves another listen, I'm sure it's in your itunes or kicking around your cd collection - put it on and see what sold in 1995. It's phenomenal.
I spent yesterday's post writing about a guilty pleasure, so I figure why not keep a good thing going? Today's post is about a piece of music's forgotten lore, Garbage's self titled debut album. I only use the term guilty pleasure here, though, because of the fact that it seems to be largely forgotten by the quickly shifting focus of our collective media-memory. I suppose there was also the stigma of being in a small town where it was considered unusual to like music that wasn't country or any kind of oldies, but that's really beside the point. Rather than bore you with my own tales of growing up in the middle of nowhere I'll settle for telling you about this awesome and neglected album that deserves more attention and respect.
