Excellent Italian Greyhound

Excellent Italian Greyound

Shellac

 

            Shellac of North America have an incredibly dedicated following (of which I am a member) who will travel great distances to see a rare live show.  Steve Albini, Bob Weston, and Todd Trainer produced three albums of unique, forceful material from 1992 to 2000.  Their first album in seven years, 2007’s Excellent Italian Greyhound, consists mainly of songs that they’ve been playing live for most of that gap; so, to the initiate, there is an easy familiarity with many of these songs.  But ultimately, the album fails to satisfy despite some excellent moments.  They keep building momentum, and then willfully obfuscating it, which becomes frustrating and boring after a while.  Actually, most of the problems with this album can be pinned on one track, “Genuine Lulabelle, “ the fifth track on a nine-track album.  The first four tracks build themselves up, and then all life gets sucked from the album in a nine-minute festival of boredom.  The last four tracks, while entertaining on their own, can’t quite get the interest back, and the album falls flat.

As always with a Steve Albini project, the recording is impeccable.  The drums, in particular, sound perfectly life-like, especially at high volume – you feel like you’re in the room with Todd Trainer.  The first track, “The End of Radio,” is a post-apocalyptic tale of the last ever radio broadcast shouted over drums and a repetitive bass line that is both funny and philosophical.  This song, like the album, builds momentum during the portions when Steve plays guitar, but then willfully undercuts it.  On this track, the tactic is effective.  Steve takes the basic premise into some interesting philosophical space, asking the semiotic question, “Is it really broadcasting if there’s no one there to receive?”  He repeatedly asks, “Can you hear me now?” and you feel the desperation of any artist, or anyone at all, who wants to be heard.  Add to that some beautifully biting trebles and great sound, and you barely notice the 8:26 you spend on this one.

The next two tracks, “Steady as She Goes” and “Be Prepared,” are probably the most straightforward rock songs on the album.  Again, there’s a bedrock bass line from Bob Weston, with Steve ranging over the top on guitar.  There’s a 35 second breakdown at 1:40 that builds some anticipation.  Then, they deliver the goods at with a wide-open rendering of the main riff.  “Be Prepared” does something similar, and the shuffle that begins at 2:25 is probably the most satisfying 35 seconds on the album.  Like “End of Radio” and three other songs on the album, “Be Prepared” stops with a held note, followed by two quick eight notes – “Bum-Bump” – that at first listen seems funny, but then just seems unimaginative.  But still, to this point, the album has been moving in a positive direction.  Track four, Bob’s song “Elephant,” moves along slowly at first.  Bob’s political lyrics are pretty obvious, and during the second verse, Steve mumbles some oddities under Bob’s vocal that don’t really add anything.  But the post-breakdown riff brings both the song and album new life and all seems right with the world.

After the first four mostly-successful tracks, the album seems ready to roll along.  Unfortunately, this momentum is short-lived.  “Genuine Lulabelle” has so many negative points that it’s hard to know where to begin.  There are several minutes of aimless guitar vamping, self-consciously shocking lyrics about a party girl, and guest vocalists reading the words a cappella.  It is incredibly, painfully uninteresting, for all its profanity and blatant sexuality.  It’s not until 7:12 that anything cool happens.  For a minute and ten seconds, there’s music – big, bold, beautiful rock and roll.  But in the end, it’s too little, too late.

The rest of the album has its moments, but it feels like an afterthought.  “Kittypants,” which follows the “Lulabelle” train wreck, is an honest to goodness pretty Shellac song.  “Boycott” pretty well demonstrates their Minutemen fan-boy status, with Bob singing eerily like D. Boon.  “Paco” has at least three great guitar riffs.  “Spoke” is a hysterical take on screamy music, with Bob and Steve shouting nonsensical, unintelligible lyrics.  And while each of these songs on its own is entertaining in the highest degree, they are not enough together to climb out from underneath the ponderous boredom brought on by “Genuine Lulabelle.”

 

+3 [w/o track 5, +7]