Singles are a strange thing. Or, rather, they used to be.
Now it's not a problem at all to pick cafeteria-style from the world at large. The album format is the oddity, where the single used to be a funny little thing. It seems so rare and note-worthy to listen to an album all the way through - not only is it a sign of dedication to an artist (or maybe not paying attention to my soundtrack) but a sign the artist is talented enough to carry an idea through more than just a handful of songs. Maybe it's just my modern age, technologically induced ADD that keeps me from even wanting to hear an album's worth of material. When I wrote about the double album Mellon Collie & The Infinite Sadness it felt like such an act of endurance and even an accomplishment to have listened to two hours of music, despite being split up over the course of two days. I guess that's more of a statement on the pace of our lives than the capability of an artist and the changing state of a medium, I suppose.
Back before the proliferation of digital distribution, singles were more of a vexing thing. If I was into a song, I couldn't rely on the single-minded nature and limited playlists of the local radio stations. MTV was already phasing out videos in favor of teen-centric marketing. If I dug something I could either plunk down a couple bones for a single, and then have to constantly be swapping discs out when I wanted to hear it, or go for gusto and buy the whole damn album, hoping the (minor) investment would pay off. Sometimes these purchases paid off, like with Fiona Apple's excellent sophomore effort or the rare stealth gem like Everclear's Sparkle And Fade. Other times, it was a frustrating disappointment, no matter how good the single was.
Take The Cranberries and their 1996 album To The Faithful Departed. Following the huge success that was their second album, No Need To Argue, one would expect them to keep on with their interesting mix of alt rock and politically aware, socially focused writing. Instead, they put out an album that just kind of fell flat, despite one or two decent singles. Personally, I loved 'Salvation', with its frantic pace and rising-and-falling melody, all doo-doo-doo-doo-doo's and hum-able lines. From the way it fell off the charts (and reading reviews in hindsight) it becomes apparent why I was frustrated with the album - it just wasn't that good. I was smitten with that particular single, yet the other 12 (12!) songs were just meh. Even the other singles were uninteresting to me, having been hooked by the thought of more aggressive tunes on the album. I had put out good money in the hopes of some good luck, instead I got a dreary album full of songs that sounded like they just weren't written with any passion. Judging by the way the band's career petered out after this album, it's possible they were running out of creative steam. I don't mean to slag them, but every artist or group has a high point; this was not that high point for The Cranberries.
Despite my harsh words, I do still dig 'Salvation'. I know it's preachy and heavy handed, the way singer Dolores O'Riordan rails against substance abuse. It's still an uptempo number that hits the right parts of my mind, hooking it in with the tightly constructed soundscape. I love the rush of it, the panic pervading through the track. Too bad it was the lone energetic track on the album. I've really tried to go back and listen to the album, to give it a second, third, fourth chance. I should have bought the single, instead.
Now it's not a problem at all to pick cafeteria-style from the world at large. The album format is the oddity, where the single used to be a funny little thing. It seems so rare and note-worthy to listen to an album all the way through - not only is it a sign of dedication to an artist (or maybe not paying attention to my soundtrack) but a sign the artist is talented enough to carry an idea through more than just a handful of songs. Maybe it's just my modern age, technologically induced ADD that keeps me from even wanting to hear an album's worth of material. When I wrote about the double album Mellon Collie & The Infinite Sadness it felt like such an act of endurance and even an accomplishment to have listened to two hours of music, despite being split up over the course of two days. I guess that's more of a statement on the pace of our lives than the capability of an artist and the changing state of a medium, I suppose.
