The Hold Steady Albums (4)
What The Critics Say
If the Hold Steady quit after 2006's magnificent Boys and Girls in America, no one could have blamed them. After all, they had recorded three brilliant records. In 2004, THS issued the guttersnipe punk meets classic rock Almost Killed Me -- recorded mostly live since the band had little wherewithal in using a studio. They upped the ante with Separation Sunday, where songwriter Craig Finn's post-Catholic guilt and confusion led to lyric lines that were pregnant with self-mythologizing. The melodies were more intricate, the guitars referenced Led Zeppelin and Cheap Trick, and the stories about himself with busted heroines and drunken heroes -- all fallen former Catholic angels -- were as memorable as the Beat Generation icons rock & roll immortalized. Finally, 2007's Boys and Girls in America added new studio savvy -- along with the same crazy energy and chanted refrains that referenced more than just rock & roll clichés (they hinted at the confused self-mirroring universe Finn was trying to figure out) -- and an expanded band sound (with keyboards no less) drawing from Thin Lizzy's dual lead guitars, the Replacements, Led Zeppelin, and, of course, Bruce Springsteen of the '70s. Over three records, they'd done almost everything. To boot, they had a smoking live show that captured everything they did on record even better. Released in 2008, Stay Positive is the most sophisticated and erudite THS have ever sounded, and that's a mixed blessing. Where every song on previous sets felt unfinished and open-ended, these tracks are sheen-polished and almost slick. They reveal growth and studio expertise but also a kind of laziness. These 12 songs are full of near-cinematic rock dynamism and expertly rendered sonic effects. The Led Zep insider jokes are abundant in both lyrics and music, and the E Street Band's Darkness on the Edge of Town epic rock is channeled to alternately stunning and irritating degrees. The random reckless energy of the earlier album trilogy has been replaced -- mostly -- by tucked corners and smoothed edges. For instance, the harpsichord on "One for the Cutters" is dreadful; it dulls the impact of Finn's searing words that reference characters from his previous songs. One wonders if this is attempted irony, blunted personal pain, or both. Production aside, Finn's words and melodies have grown in depth without losing their immediacy. On album opener "Constructive Summer," the huge guitars of Stiff Little Fingers circa Nobody's Heroes meet the young wistful Van Morrison of "Brown Eyed Girl." But there's a twist: the protagonist is an American adult male trapped in adolescence, living in nowheresville; he seeks something worth remembering from all the blackouts and wasted life -- the romance of myth is displaced by false promises dictated by fear and self-deceit. He raises a toast to "...Saint Joe Strummer/I think he might have been the only decent teacher/Getting older makes it harder to remember/We are our only saviors/We're gonna build something this summer." The chorus offers a confusing, jokey chanted chorus (à la the Adolescents) that adds dimensionally to the loss here. "Navy Sheets" references four tracks on Led Zeppelin's Houses of the Holy: "Dy'er Maker," "The Ocean,""The Crunge," and the song itself from Physical Graffiti. But the piano in the wonderful "Sequestered in Memphis" -- channeling the E Street Band pianist Roy Bittan -- is very effective; it introduces the tune before a B-3 and a tenor saxophone move against the guitars to create an unholy union between story-song and mid-level punk anthem. But Finn and company save two of the best tunes for last in "Joke About Jamaica" and "Slapped Actress." Their drama, raw and incessant energy, and musical sophistication all come together in two songs that are less studied and calculated. There is an uneasy balance between "finished" big-time rock and the wily, playful freedom of "arena rock in my basement"; humor is maintained amid the darkness and Finn's self-referential mythology unwinds itself into even greater insight. Irony abounds, finally, in that even if it's the Hold Steady's least enjoyable recording, Stay Positive will break this band on the charts nationally. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
'Boys and Girls in America'
Release Date 10/3/2006
Tracks 11
Label Vagrant
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
"There are nights when I think Sal Paradise was right/'Boys and Girls in America have such a sad time together....'" These are the opening words to "Stuck Between Stations," the first cut from Boys and Girls in America, the Hold Steady's third full-length. Before these, however, are piano lines and glockenspiel sounds that could have come from Bruce Springsteen's Born to Run album and guitar lines that could have been spit out of an AC/DC song. Sal Paradise, Kerouac's big character, is not the only mythical presence on this meditation of darkly romanticized youth. The late poet (and suicide) John Berryman and one of his monolithic works Dream Songs is in here too: "...I surround myself with doctors and deep thinkers/but big heads with soft bodies make for lousy lovers..." Ain't that the truth. (He should have talked to Chuck Berry instead.) In the meantime, Craig Finn's spilling out an encounter and meditation, and the first person part of his narrative reveals "a damn good kisser and she wasn't that strict of a Christian/She was a real good dancer but she wasn't much of a girlfriend." This is the set up for the slickest, catchiest, and most focused collection of songs by Finn and his rocking Brooklyn quintet. The guy's not just a storyteller, he's a rock historian, a fan boy gone wild, telling stories of everything he says; he's not speaking for anybody but himself, and as a result his appeal is wide. When the band turn Thin Lizzy's "Boys Are Back in Town" inside-out riff-wise on "Hot Soft Light," Finn tries to sound like Phil Lynott, because he's offering a tale of mall rats, suburban kids, drinking, and drug taking -- in essence, addiction--from the inside, not as an observer. It's personal revelation disguised as a pumped-up rock anthem. Try "Chips Ahoy," even more of a fist raiser, with a Hammond B-3 under that wall of guitars and rolling bassline. It's got a whoah-oh-oh oh- ohoho . . chorus from the boys in the band and Finn's talking about the race track, specifically about a girl who bets $900.00 on a horse and has problems enjoying the compulsive sex she engages in. His frustration expels itself as a question both teens and young men have been trying to ask forever, but have been afraid to articulate, or it never occurred to them that they could ask: "How am I supposed to know that you're high if you won't let me touch you?/How am I supposed to know if you won't even dance?" Those looking for Separation Sunday "part two" may be disappointed by the huge sound this record has (the band's moved to Vagrant); it's not much of a concept record, and it's not as Catholic, but all those struggles are in here just beneath the surface (and sometimes on top of it). One of the ballads here, "First Night," begins with a piano and an acoustic guitar lilting a rather loose melody that gives Finn the support he needs to get out of his pent-up, novelistic, wordsmithing mouth: "Charlemagne shakes in the street/Gideon makes love to the suites/Holly's not invincible/in fact she's in the hospital/not far from the bar where we met/on that first night." All of these characters are young, desperate, and fleeing from their inner fear, except for Holly who is wise enough to tell the protagonist that "words alone never could save us"....and then "cried when she told us about Jesus." The piano fills out that unfillable hole in Holly and the rest, no matter where they run. Finn can do nothing but repeat his lines and find a last verse somewhere to let the song just fade into silence because it never really ends. Boys and Girls in America is a sophisticated shambles. There's still a barely-on-the-rail feel, despite the literate compositions. Finn's always either behind or ahead of the beat, but it's alright, his bandmates can more than handle that because they're as engaged as he is. There are a few guests, and even a horn section on one track, and the classic girl group chorus call and response from Dana Kletter and her gorgeous voice. There's real sadness in the Wall of Sound and chanted chorus in "You Can Make Him Like You," which examines everything from addiction to betrayal, to the insecurity in love that can push someone over the edge, never to return. Thin Lizzy makes a return on "Massive Nights," complete with roiling bass as Finn opens the whole escapist mix, swinging and setting up a hedonist's dream: "The guys were feeling good about their liquor run..." There are low expectations and drama where only the music counts. The tune turns back on itself when the singer is trying to convince himself and the huge wailing responsorial chorus that something so utterly suburban could be cool, until "She had the gun in her mouth/She was shooting up at her dreams/When the chaperone said that/We'd been crowned/the king and the queen." And it just ends. The chorus doesn't repeat. Elizabeth Elmore's and Dave Pirner's character triplet vocals on "Chillout Tent" help to create a sprawling narrative. Finn's the narrator, the other two are such broken and wasted -- even OD'ed -- people; they kiss urgently, which is alternately "sexy...but kinda creepy." The song doesn't really work, but it's brave as hell as an experiment. The reason this record is worth embracing and even celebrating is because it's an honest to God rock & roll album. It exposes in the first and third person what it means to grow up right now in the midst of suburban waste. It's angsty, but Finn's got a sense of humor and the band can play their asses off. That they so readily embrace rock history as a means of unfolding Finn's stories suggests that "cool" and "indie" are simply terms in the larger dialogue. This is a smoking little record. Its focus is small, its reach is large; it's a winner. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
'Separation Sunday'
Release Date 4/19/2005
Tracks 11
Label French Kiss
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
The Hold Steady's Almost Killed Me is their hands-down masterpiece. A swirling maelstrom of intense, hilarious, and breathtaking rock & roll, it should have been the album that knocked everything else into a cocked hat in 2004. Of course, it was mostly ignored outside the homes of a handful of indie snobs and adventurous punks, but it's there, it's amazing, and most likely the band will never be able to top it. Separation Sunday comes pretty damn close, though. It is a much darker record, revolving around drug casualties, broken lives, a hoodrat fixation, spiritual and physical dissipation, and general despair, and there aren't as many easy laughs this time out -- but instead the listener gets lots of head-shaking wonderment at Craig Finn's genius lyrics and voice. His gruff, in-your-ear vocals negotiate the twisting torrent of words like a world-class skater kid. He is insanely literate and insanely insistent: he's like the guy who calls at 2:30 a.m. in a frenzy to holler about his latest disaster of the heart, the bar-stool poet with a religious obsession, or the guy who corners you at a party and just won't shut up about how Boston are the missing link between the Beatles and Derrick May -- only you don't mind because he is strangely brilliant. He is also just about the best rock & roll frontman since Bob Pollard. In fact, the group sounds a bit like Guided By Voices at times, only a Guided By Voices that want to kick your sorry can up and down the length of the bar. Or maybe a GBV that worship Springsteen instead of the Who. Whipping up a classic rock-inspired frenzy of monitor-straddling guitar riffs, dual harmony leads, E Street piano flourishes, and galloping horns, the band behind Finn sounds like nothing less than Jim Steinman's dream group. You could talk about great individual songs (the epic "How a Resurrection Really Feels," the piledriving album opener "Hornets! Hornets!," the weird and almost funky "Charlemagne in Sweatpants"), but the strength of the album is in the flow from song to song and the way the intensity level (which starts off at a near fever pitch) elevates until your head is just about ready to burst from the thrill of it all. Call it a quaint idea in 2005, but Separation Sunday is truly an album, one that sounds almost perfect when played from beginning to end in the proper running order. Block out about 42 minutes sometime, hold steady, and get ready for indie rock -- no, rock & roll -- at its sweatiest, most intense, and most impressive. Long live the album; long live the Hold Steady. ~ Tim Sendra, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
"The '80s almost killed me," admits the Hold Steady's Craig Finn on "Positive Jam," one of ten rock & roll confessionals on the band's debut. That sets the tone for the rest of Almost Killed Me, as Finn reveals a lifestyle that included a "skater phase," a "raver phase," and a "razor blade phase." His lamentations are the appropriate voice for the band's debut, which sets out to recapture the glory of classic American rock and early indie rock. With rugged guitar riffs and solos and Finn's half-sung, scratchy voice, the Hold Steady mostly succeed, easily recalling the classic rock of early Bruce Springsteen or the sincerity of latter-day Hüsker Dü. When he's not remembering the parties and acting like "a Twin Cities trash bin," he reacts to the corruption of today's youth. Finn may seem like a fish out of water at this point, but having survived a self-indulgent life, his lyrics, as well as the Hold Steady's back-to-basics rock, are ironically welcoming. ~ Kenyon Hopkin, All Music Guide
