Pardon the tardiness, readers: I spent an inordinate amount of between-entries time trying to drum up a defense of an indie-rock record that will remain nameless, which I’d ranked strictly on the basis of like four good songs. That entry would be stamped on the Internet for life if it weren’t for a chance meeting with an old 200-disc CD booklet, wherein I was reminded that, right, I used to listen to the Barenaked Ladies; also, their turn-of-the-century record Maroon was every bit as good as I remembered it being, my dirty little secret during a time when I was attempting to be very cool and only like cool music. (I’ve always loved you, Pavement, but I just always had the Ladies on the side for a little fun. Please forgive me, I now know I can just like everyone I want openly.)
It’s an interesting record, coming as it did on the heels of the Canadian pop act’s 1998 record Stunt, wherein the Ladies became the kind of act that tweens voted for on “Total Request Live” on the strength of their nonsensical, rapid-fire hit single “One Week”; Maroon has “Pinch Me”, an omnipresent pop single in its own right and the logical extension of “One Week”‘s playful sing-rapped verses stapled to big, catchy choruses (if a little folksier and slightly less whimsical). But “Pinch Me” is also a bit of a bait-and-switch; there are heaping spoonfuls of gooey pop melodies on Maroon, to be sure, but it’s also a great deal darker than one might expect, with introspection and satire running rampant.
Of a piece with the Ladies’ vaunted pop chops are “Pinch Me” and its fellow singles “Falling For the First Time” and “Too Little Too Late”; “Too Late” ages wonderfully precisely by being so retro, a Joe Jackson lick and canned Boston handclaps hinting that it could have been released in 1979. “Never Do Anything” and “Go Home” find BNL giving the old acoustic guitars and four-part harmonies a familiar workout. The first half of Maroon sounds like a very good Barenaked Ladies record, which I’d argue is enough to warrant a place on this countdown. Say what you will about them being edge-less, but they’ve got a nigh-unparalelled way with a pop hook. (See also side two’s “Humour of the Situation”, a toothless but sinfully catchy breakup jam.)
And yet, there’s something else at play on Maroon; namely, it’s got a certain mature, fairly dark streak, particularly in its second half. “Conventioneers” signals the sea change, a muted lounge track about two co-workers who consummate office flirtations during the heady rush of a work retreat and never address it again. “Sell Sell Sell” is a different beast altogether, a one-liner packed indictment of consumerist and celebrity culture that rides cresting waves of martial drums and frilly operatic pomp; “in terms of Roman numerals, he’s I-V league with Roman Polanski” is one of my favorite soundbites on a pop record, for sure. Top ten material.
Maroon‘s finest stretch remains its final one, however. “Off the Hook” is as sobering and wistful as the Ladies have been, a breakup sifted through and excavated with maturity and painful nostalgia. It also feels uniquely ’90s, despite being released in 2000, performing in one chorus what a litany of Goo Goo Dolls and Sugar Ray mid-tempo hits couldn’t in an entire career; and, in the pantheon of lyrics I love, “something that you heard while you were sleeping left you shaken while he stirred” is the sort of beautiful wordplay that the Ladies can just dump into a serious number organically. “Helicopters” finds a narrator recalling the wreckage of a war-torn village; it’s mid-tempo and major-key, yet somehow poised and sad and lovely. (Lyric alert: “a world that loves its irony must hate the protest singer.”)
It’s all a prelude to “Tonight Is the Night I Fell Asleep At the Wheel”, one of the most profoundly unsettling songs I’ve ever heard; a lurching carnival’s waltz soundtracks the tale of a fatal car wreck, narrated with graphic stoicism by the deceased. Those multitracked, almost joyous-sounding harmonies on the line “I’ve never seen so much BLOOD!” chill my bones. Props, again, for the wordplay though– the inversion of the previously-stated “you’re the last thing on my mind” is a moment of nerdy delight.
It’s the Barenaked Ladies’ best record, is what I’m saying — it’s personal and mature and dark in all the right places, and when it’s not, it jettisons gimmickry for unassailable power-pop, and that’s great too.
Playlist track: I’m sure “Too Little Too Late” is more fun at parties, but “Off the Hook” is handily the best thing here.
Drew's Album of the Day 