The last time I had such a childish, underdeveloped first response to a record was when I bought Shine A Light by the Constantines. I’d bought it because I really enjoyed the song “Nighttime/Anytime (It’s Alright),” and had expected it to be a record full of songs like that, and was actually disgusted when only one song was kind of like it (“Tank Commander”).
I waited two or three years, until later into my time in high school, to put it on again. Now I vehemently defend The Constantines as being the finest rock band of 2000-2005, refer to four of those five releases as wholly perfect, intend to get “Modern Sinner Nervous Man” tattooed on my right wrist, and will probably have “Blind Luck” play during my funeral.
This is not to say that my position on Open Your Heart has changed that dramatically, although on scale I suppose it’s not far off. In the three months from my first listens, I have gone from feeling bummed out by the successor to the monolithic Leave Home to realizing that this is the only real competition for Album of the Year that Swans are going to have, and its emotional core is so close to where I am now that I don’t even know if The Seer stands a chance.
I described my read on the emotional tone of Leave Home as not unlike a subtly disturbing experimental film. The detail on their representation of the rock canon passed all tests of familiarity, but the events captured were of some darker time for that place and the actors in the film were expressing angst that couldn’t be articulated in any way but shrieking guitars. Sure there were words, but they so deeply did not matter that with few exceptions they would quickly drown in the hurricane of guitar sound.
It is then very easy to look at Leave Home and then Open Your Heart, and draw the conclusion that I did: that it just wasn’t as good, or that they were going soft. Attempts to reason why I held that vibe varied from misinterpreting interviews, or overemphasizing the departure of Chris Hansell and the way that made it hard to look at the record the same way. Whatever the justification, comparison seems unfair.
And then I was standing on the street, outside of a doctor’s office, under cloudy skies with wind trying to bury under my skin. The semester was coming to a close, and I was confronted with the reality that my full educational career was about to begin. I would have to sacrifice large parts of my time and identity to be able to work as hard as I’d need to if I was going to accomplish what I wanted (training in therapy). As I waited for my ride, I put my earbuds in, and put Open Your Heart back on.
Suddenly, it sounded renewed; not like some rumination on the future but some panicked fight with now. I mean, it’s obvious in the words used on the album: “Please Don’t Go Away.” “Open Your Heart.” The lyrics of “Candy.” “Ex-Dreams.” In the tones, this theme is carried out by clearer, more articulated guitar lines, like “Country Song” and “Oscillation.” Compare this to Leave Home, where EVERYTHING was bursts of unbeatable sound and visceral emotions. Even the slow instrumental tracks erupted into holy noise by the end, while the the songs written to be fast moved at bonebreaking pace and tone. Fuck, “Lotus” and “Bataille” still hit me like slinged stones. The only time they manage that pace and massive sound is nestling the desperate plea of society: “please don’t go away, please don’t go away…”
Maybe Immaculada and Leave Home were trying to capture the darker spirits surrounding the state of rock and roll. But maybe those records are The Men… are men struggling to plant their feet and see if they can get what they’re worth, whatever they’ve decided that means. And maybe confronted with the their own slowly realizing plans, they decided it was vital to sit down and articulate that fear. Maybe that’s what all the darkness in those two records were: not some analysis of the state of a musical discipline, but fighting through the fear of accomplishing nothing and then leaving. That kind of ego-threat leads to some real fight-or-flight shit, visceral and inarticulate reactions to enemies that have only been read well enough to know they’re enemies.
They’ve toured the world now. Not literally all of the world, but they have performed in many places away from their home, to crowds that have come because they love what they’re doing. “The Dream,” as it were. It’s all happened alarmingly fast, as well. It now strikes me that Open Your Heart is taking a second to get a better look at what they’re working to beat; It’s articulate because they have time to articulate, less to immediately demonstrate and prove. They’ve conquered making a name, and now have to deal with something far more scarier: What they wanted, and how to deal with it.
WINNER: “Open Your Heart” by The Men
WHY: They’re Ex-Dreams because they’ve got them in their sights, not because they gave them up.
Fermata over Whole Rest 