A review of Yo La Tengo's Fakebook

Fakebook

Yo La Tengo

1990

Certainly a bit of a joke to anybody who bought into any part of pop music at the time, Yo La Tengo’s take on making an album of modern standards has fared much better over the years than many of the other records that underwhelmed us in 1990.  A collection of the band’s favorite cover songs, Fakebook presents a sharp set rendered mostly acoustic and definitely not noisy.

Joined by Dave Schramm and Al Greller, husband and wife Ira Kaplan and Georgia Hubley tear through 16 tracks that include songs penned by Cat Stevens, Ray Daives  Gene Clark and John Cale, among others.  In addition to a handful of lost classics and some not-so-classics, the band takes a stab at alternative versions of a few Hubley-Kaplan songs found on their earlier records.  Rounding out the set are two new Yo La Tengo originals.

Considering the premise of the record, picking a brand new original song to open your record of “standards” is a bold move, even more so for a band so off the radar already, “Can’t Forget” is an unbelievably beautiful song that works in Kaplan and Hubley’s favor.  Essentially a country duet with Kaplan taking the lead, the song sets a pace of quiet intensity with simple rhythm guitar and propulsive upright bass.  It’s the steel slide guitar really that makes the recording, acting as a counter-melody as it does for all of the Yo La Tengo originals on Fakebook.   “Barnaby, Hardly Working,” “The Summer” and “What Comes Next” all point in the same direction for what would be the future of Yo La Tengo - hushed, close-miked vocals (many times unison vocals), propulsive yet restrained rhythm tracks and soaring lead guitar parts that weave in and out of Kaplan and Hubley’s delicate melodies.

It would be easy to say that this record is like Yo La Tengo, just unplugged, but that would be unfair.  This cover-song format is an opportunity to have fun without sounding pretentious.  Songs like “Griselda,” “Speeding Motorcycle,” “Emulsified,” and “Here Comes My Baby,” all fit this mold.  More than being goofy or kitschy though, this album can be unbelievably beautiful.  Without a doubt, “Oklahoma U.S.A.” is devastating, enhanced by the fact that Kaplan seems to believe in the song as he sings it, which was perhaps missing from the Kinks original.  “You Tore Me Down” is another stunner; the interlocking rhythm guitars cradling the beautiful vocal harmonies, a great choice for a cover in that the message lives up to the title.

Albums from my collection listened to in the last little while:

A.M. by Wilco
Anodyne by Uncle Tupelo
Africa/Brass by John Coltrane
Alladin Sane by David Bowie
All That You Can't Leave Behind by U2
Abbey Road (2009 remaster) by The Beatles
Another Country by Tift Merritt
Another Fine Day by Golden Smog
Are You Thinking What I'm Thinking by The Like

I always forget how much I like Anodyne.  It's pretty unbelievable how good it is for such you performers, and considering the output of the two major players, amazing that they had great songs still in them after this.

Running through all of the A's, let's see how long it takes.

As I write this, I'm enjoying a little "The Watt From Pedro Show." Mike Watt, of Minutemen fame, hosts and spins cool records that I would never listen to otherwise. It's a three hour podcast, so I get my fill of very cool stuff.

So I got a new computer, and it's pretty great. I have to make sure that I use it. Like now. I'm using it now.

I got stuck taking the train today. Bummer for me, but a train ride is always a chance to catch up on music listening. I've been forcing myself to listen only "new" music lately. My iPods are only loaded with music that I've added in the last two years. This keeps me from a great deal of my "collection," but forces me to discover what I've only been skimming over in the last two years.

I've moved a couple of times since the end of 2006/beginning of 2007 (my iPods cut-off date), so I've fallen back on the "classics;" Elvis Costello, Bruce Springsteen, Nick Lowe. I realized that after this last move that I really should expand my boundaries a little more, and not just listen to a lot of stuff once. New records by old favorites, Bruce, Elvis, Gary Louris, Tift Merritt, have all gotten some play, but exploring really challenging stuff has been my favorite part of this experience. Secondman's Middle Stand by Mike Watt now gets more play, Tutu by Miles Davis is now in the mix, and I'm finally getting around to listening to Nuggets. This morning I decided that Morrisey's Vauxhall and I is a great record I missed the first time around.

I got a message from Jordy tonight about the new Mark Olson/Gary Louris record, Ready for the Flood. He was enjoying "Bicycle." It's pretty great that these guys are making records after so long apart. That leads me to something I've been thinking about lately.

I recently found out that the Jayhawks record, Tomorrow the Green Grass, came out in 1995, not 1993 or '94. This is a pretty crazy revelation for me, as I've felt really behind the times all my life. Of course that's what I get for judging my life based on pop culture. I mesure every moment in my life by the records that I was enjoying at the time. Who's Next dominates my sophmore high school memories, Nebraska is forever tied to a trip I took to Michigan in 1998 and memories of listening to With the Beatles are the only good thing I remember about 6th grade.

So now that I can't remember when a record came out, does that reinforce the fact that I use music to escape, or is it just an anomoly. The reason that this is so bothersome is that I always felt like I was playing catch up when it came to music, and very few bands in my life have released new material after I liked them. Oh well, I'll continue to think about what this means and maybe write some more about it later.

I'm listening to Raymond Pettibon talk to Mike Watt about good wrestling and how art is not important. Interesting stuff.

I've been thinking about lists lately. How much people want to put them in their blogs and facebook and how much they are taken seriously. As much as I like lists, I feel like they don't do a good job of explaining what the information they represent means. That's not to say that they have their place. I just think that lists are funny. Of course that's how the rest of this blog works. It's all lists. I'll try to change that.

I finished watching The Godfather last night. I've been un-packing, and it makes for excellent entertainment while going through old pictures and books. I always forget that Diane Keaton is the last shot in the movie. I'm sure it's been said many times, but of course it's too perfect that it ends with someone (Kay) from the outside looking at Michael in disgust, as it begins with the undertaker begging the Don. I'm no movie critic, but that's how to make a movie.

Since it's been over a year since my last post, I thought I would try to post a little more in 2009.

Something that's bothered me for so time now is that I have less and less idea about what kinds of music I actually like. What I mean to say is that even though I go through the motions of talking about what I like and what I don't like in music, what I end up listening to, and ultimately enjoy, is something totally different.

The best example of this is The Grays Ro Sham Bo. With only one album, this group fronted by Jason Faulkner and Jon Brion came to my attention (as they did for most people) with "The Very Best Years," a crazy awesome single from 1994. After getting a tape copy and later a burned CD of this album, I find that despite my claim of loving stuff like Born to Run and Blood and Chocolate, I listen to Ro Sham Bo without hesitation or guilt.

I suppose that this probably happens to everybody, but coming from me, a guy that is so open about his taste, I'm just a little bothered...