Back in 1986 there was a day I tore the plastic from my new copy of Journey's album "Raised on Radio," then put the record on and pulled out the album sleeve to start learning all of the important details: What the lyrics were, who wrote which songs together, etc. I got a huge shock when I saw the obligatory band photo of three guys: the singer, the guitar player, and the keyboardist. What the...
I was taken aback. What happened to the bass player, or the drummer? Did they quit? Were they fired? There was no Internet for me to scour, so I had no idea and didn't learn for a long time what had happened. The credits had some side musicians I'd never heard of before playing drums and bass, and not even the same guys for each song. I was at a loss. I correctly took this as the beginning of the end for one of my high school favorite bands.
I've got a pretty tight definition for a band. You need a singer, a guitarist, a bass player, and a drummer. Simple as that. The singer can also play bass or guitar, or in rare cases drum, but usually you're talking about four people when you think "band," or at least when I do. If you throw keyboards into the mix, it's a common variation to have five people, and if the singer in a 5-piece is able to also play an instrument, all the better for the musical layering. Then you've got some bands out there with two guitarists, or three, or two keyboards, or a sax, or a percussionist, or some other less common instrument, and all of that can be for the better. But to be a BAND, you need the basics. Any professional rock band that doesn't have those four anchors locked down is cheating, just like Journey did. And in the end, they paid the price.
Bon Jovi is kind of pulling this too, where they claim to be a four piece band without a bass player as a member, even if they've had the same guy playing bass on their albums and live shows for close to 20 years. They've just never made him an official member. Genesis? They recorded everything on their own, but they needed more people to tour. Rush? Now there's a band. Only three guys, playing everything, and in concert sometimes they're each playing eighteen or nineteen instruments at a time. Trios can be the exception.
Why am I all fired up about this? Today I downloaded the new album by Train, "California 37." After one play through, I mostly like it, but I have some big problems with it too, not the least of which is that Train is no longer a band.
One thing I've always loved about Train is how they work some moments of clever word play into their lyrics, and there's a lot of that here. There's a good amount of unabashed romanticism, which, believe it or not, can really work for me when it's done well. There are several catchy songs that will be good car songs for the summer, without a doubt. But this isn't an album put together by a band. It's full-on corporate product. I enjoy it, but I don't think I'm ever going to love it.
"Hey Soul Sister" came out of nowhere a few years ago, and I loved it -- I loved seeing this huge resurgence for a band I liked that was on the verge of fading away. But it also scared me a little, because it was almost a novelty song, which is never a good thing for a band looking for staying power. The rest of the album, "Save Me, San Francisco" was one of my favorites for a long time; I have a LOT of personal history with Train tied to my sisters, and you only have to look as far as clicking here for some of that proof.
Here's my problem with this: "Hey Soul Sister" was a huge pop hit, so guess what there are a lot of on this new album? Yes - songs engineered to someday be potential huge pop hits. Normally this wouldn't bother me. I won't begrudge musicians I like to do something I enjoy hearing them do if it will give them continued success and allow me to enjoy more music from them. But this album isn't really from them. Train has pulled a huge Journey here -- the band, once made up of six guys, is now down to three: the singer, the drummer, and the guitar player. No bass, no keys, and a bus load of "additional musicians" showing up in the liner notes. Time was Train was a band that could handle playing all of their own music because they had enough people to do it. And to make matters worse? Outside songwriters. Hired guns brought in to help craft the potential pop hits. When a band doesn't write or play all of it's own music... this crosses a line for me. Train is no longer a band -- it's a corporation.
I'll still learn the album, and play it, and I'll probably enjoy it a great deal someday. They just aren't making it easy.
No comments:
Post a Comment