When the New York Times deems it news-worthy to write about your upcoming album, I think it’s safe to say that you’ve established yourself as a band. Once part of the subversive underground, the Jesus Lizard are now part of (noise) rock history, some might even say with legendary status. The band have served or are still serving as a reference point for many outfits out there aiming for an antsy, raw, edgy, minimalistic sound. It’s a sound that another one of the scene’s greats helped to define. Recently deceased musician, audio engineer and music journalist Steve Albini recorded four of the band’s albums, among them the two that are commonly cited as their best, Goat (1991) and Liar (1992).
Today, the four band members, who, as cheeky punk kids, named themselves after a basilisk that can walk on water, are all in their sixties. And while the band bio put together for the new release insists that “they might not be young, but they will never, ever get fucking old”, there is no denying that the quartet are soon-to-be senior citizens, and that their main musical achievements appear to be three decades behind them. In the 1990s, they offered barely-reigned-in musical chaos with foul language delivered in deranged-sounding Sprechgesang to the crowds, and the crowds liked it. Now the people who made up their audiences are retired, others approaching retirement. Just like the band members. Nevertheless, many old-time fans have bought tickets for multiple shows of the band’s upcoming tour. Because they are no longer broke punk kids, but mostly well situated. And maybe some even work for the New York Times. Will the band with their new album and their up-coming tour deliver the same sound to the same crowds? And will they like it? What about new audiences? How are they going to react?
While it is pretty obvious that this continued band revival holds joys for those in front of and those on the stage, the question a music critic must ask, even if, by doing so, they risk being called a smartass and a killjoy, is the following: Are the new album and the up-coming tour only a form of re-enactment, a way of proving they still have it, for both, the band and their old-time fans, or does Rack actually carry some new musical value?
It is a fact that music, like any other kind of art, is a product of its time and its place. This fact is an essential part from which an album derives its relevance. If future generations, who did not live through a specific point in time and its corresponding place keep coming back to an album, keep referring to it, then this certain piece of music has kept its relevance and in time may become a classic. The Jesus Lizard’s Goat can safely be called a classic. But what if a band, decades after producing an enduring piece of music, goes back and produces more of the same? Does this make the new material similarly relevant? Hardly so.
This, however, is exactly what the Jesus Lizard have done. Their seventh studio album Rack features chaotic, non-sensical guitar rock, with hooks and prominent, angular bass lines, paying homage to themselves and to Steve Albini’s recording principles. From the sound of it, Rack, as some have written, could have been released in the 1990s, because it fits seamlessly onto the band’s previous output. And it’s not as if the band was denying any of this, on the contrary. In the New York Times article mentioned above, guitarist Duane Denison is cited as saying “I wanted to sound like a kid.”. And he literally does.
So, if you are an old-time fan I reckon you will enjoy the 11 tracks and 37 minutes of Rack. I did, too, to some extent. But when it comes to substance and relevance, I find the album awfully lacking. On planet Earth, change is the only constant. In ignoring this and in insisting on not getting old, on sounding like when they were kids, the Jesus Lizard have denied themselves the opportunity to release an album that’s relevant in the here and now. While an utter lack of maturity might have been appealing to 90s punk kids, in this time and age it seems just ignorant. Rack, therefore, is a well-made, fun album, offering an opportunity to delve in nostalgia for the band and fans alike, but not much more than that. And that’s a pity.
(7/10 Slavica)
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