Singer In Search Of A Soul

 

By Kevin John

 

Candy From A Stranger

Soul Asylum

Columbia

 

 

Journeyman. Craftsman. Beautiful Loser. Formalist. All of these callings are difficult to hear on the fly. Sure, their practitioners can blindside you now

and then with a zinger that teaches a damned old dog new, catchy tricks. But, especially in a context that demands closer attention (say, over the length of an album or, ugh, a career), the songs often get as blandly predictable as an

episode of "Home Improvement."

 

 

Dave Pirner has been called one and all of the above by those for whom Zen

Arcade is Robert Johnson: The Complete Recordings in an attempt to come to

terms with their continuing pleasure with Soul Asylum's continuing inability

to take a new direction. His career in song traces the same depressive,

therapy-thirsty steps from hardcore anger to grunge angst that Dinosaur

Jr./Sebadoh have traversed with a jaded, uncertain single-mindedness that

borders on obsession. Those obsessions finally paid off when they meshed

with a jaded, uncertain pop moment, but it grew wearisome to keep hoping

that Pirner would eventually shake them and become preoccupied with something

else.

 

 

Let Your Dim Light Shine (1995) was the first time Pirner let some new

light shine in. The songs were his catchiest; the one- liners were his

cleverest ("tried to get ahead but only got decapitated"); the narratives told

stories for telling's sake and were as deftly constructed as a ... well, it's not

for nothing that they called one song "String of Pearls." But most

importantly, several songs showcased pronouns in the third person (most notably,

"she"), fixing the spotlight on the fact that not only were there other people in

the world, but that they could be as jaded and uncertain as the auteur

himself. Maybe even more. Now, there was no particular reason why this development

had to occur at that particular moment in Pirner's career. Indeed, Candy From A Stranger sadly

makes it clear that his having finally seen the light was more than likely a

fluke. And now we're faced with 11 more acely-crafted tunes that leave you

wondering why, after almost 15 years, has this man not gotten over this

strange relationship or that goddamn job.

 

Let's talk about "No Time For Waiting" in this respect. The song vaguely

recalls Sweet's "Fox on the Run" the way "Bittersweetheart" vaguely recalled

"Summertime Blues" last time out; that is, they palm off of milestones sexier

and sunnier than Soul Asylum can probably ever write themselves. The same

great snare-drum pomp counts out every beat. It even has some of that

faux-prog synth action happening. A fine song. Unquestionably.

But, jeez, wouldn't you rather listen to "Fox on the Run," especially

when confronted with Pirner's latest crybabyisms? He whines about the same "no way

out" situations ("it's enough to make you stay, it's enough to make you go

away") and the same "nobody-understands-me" lots in life ("you don't

understand how I'm feeling," ugh!). And the song as a whole fits too nicely

into the album's theme of time wasting away. He could have at least sung the

chorus ("There's n-no time for waiting") the way Sweet sang "F- Foxy!" Then

again, the comparison is probably unfair since Sweet were the greatest group

of all time.

 

>>> >>> >>> "Why can't he get generous and air out that homesick psyche once

>>> >>> >>> in a while?"

>>> >>> >>>

>>> >>>

>>>

 

I don't want to overstate my disappointment with this album. I like it fine.

Pirner remains an above-average songwriter and his voice is gaining more and

more shades of emotion. There's really not a bad song in the bunch. I even had

"Draggin' The Lake" in my head during a waking sleep a few nights ago. And the

longest song is 4:45, with the album finishing out a hair over 45 minutes. So

long-windedness is not Pirner's problem.

 

But the promise held forth on Let Your Dim Light Shine seems to have

prematurely diminished. It's evident that the attraction of country music for

Pirner lies in its pathos and not in its amazing sense of narrative detail and

concision, or even its pinched, white soul. And he could stand a heaping

helpful of the latter two. He needs to tell more stories (they can even be

about him, as long as it tells a story). He needs to stop relegating covers to

crappy EPs and place some on an album for a change of pace. Ditto for

stridently political songs like "P-9." He's one of the more generous rockers

out there.Why can't he get generous with his full-length releases and air out

that homesick psyche once in a while?

Maybe we have to wait 'til next album, since he admits here that he's "Close"

to peace of mind. In the meantime, there's still "The Game." For four and a

half minutes, he lets his Husker Du down and recounts a jealous tug-of-war

with a best friend's wife. It's the only track that kept jumping out at me

when I listened to it five times in a row while searching for cheap sex on

AOL. Ten more of those and he'll never be hard to hear

again.