Rock musicians have always drawn inspiration from fairly eclectic sources. Painters, poets, writers, and filmmakers have been providing fodder for some of the best, and worst, rock songs ever written. But isn't it about time that rock musicians began seeking out influence from another source? How about those oft-forgotten but nevertheless vital entertainers, stand-up comedians.

Why stand-up comedians? Well, for starters, comedy is perhaps the only form of entertainment in which the performer must perpetually be in direct connection with the audience. Comedians don't have pretension to hide behind; they can't argue that their comedy is boring because it's "art." If they aren't getting laughs, they simply fail. Similarly, they don't have any kind of glossy production to hide behind. If a comedian were to run his voice through a reverb pedal and put Steve Albini at the mixing board, no one would notice. That's why there are no famous comedy club sound guys.

But perhaps the greatest single element found in comedy that seems to be sorely lacking in rock music these days is the element of surprise. Now, I've always taken nothing short of personal offense at the notion that rock music is dead. But the almost complete lack of absolute, startling originality that currently plagues the majority of rock music cannot be denied. Don't believe me? Well, let's take a quick quiz: three fill in the blank questions, ranging from the extremely easy to the more advanced:

1) Guitar, _______, and drums.
2) Verse, chorus, verse, _______, chorus.
3) F, C, D, _______.

Granted, the last one was a bit esoteric. But odds are, you figured out the first two with very little effort. The archetypal "rock song" has become a complete cliché, utilizing the same structure, sound, and instrumentation as 99% of the other rock songs ever written. By the time you've heard the first thirty seconds of almost any song on the radio, you could finish the song as well as the person who actually wrote it.

If the rock song were a joke, comedy would have died out years ago, or at least been severely injured due to hurled projectiles. Too often, rock musicians forget that in order to elicit any kind of genuine response from an audience, you have to keep them on their toes. Sure, some comedians, such as Neil Hamburger, are under the impression that telling the same ancient jokes over and over again is funny. But when's the last time somebody said to you, "Oh, man! You've got to check out this new Neil Hamburger album!"

Like the best stand-up comedians, It Was Hot, We Stayed in the Water makes a point of never letting on where it's going next. It's one of those rare albums that obliterates your expectations of a traditional rock album, yet remains potent and accessible. It's not a record that can be passively listened to-- the constant, drastic shifts in structure and dynamics simply demand your full and undivided attention.

It Was Hot opens with lightly-strummed acoustic guitar switching rhythmically from the right to left channel of your speaker-- a subtle effect, but one that sounds remarkably cool, and lends a whole new dimension to an already good song. Suddenly, a small click echoes in the background. A low-level, barely audible hiss lingers just below the fluttering guitar and frontman Phil Elvrum's angelic voice. It's a most subtle change, but it hints perfectly at the oncoming sonic blast. Reverb-drenched snares drive with three times the force of a steam engine, and twice the volume. Fuzz-soaked electric guitars blast slightly off-key. But despite the dissonance and the atypical song structure, the track never breaks down into complete anarchy-- it's still a rock song, just not the one you're used to.

The album's next track, "Ice," plays out kind of like its predecessor in reverse, starting with a cacophonous blast of huge-sounding percussion, bass and guitar, before dissipating into strummed acoustics, with K Records songstress Mirah providing backing vocals. The track is a short-lived affair, leading up perfectly to the album's climax, the laid-back yet riveting charms of the Microphones' otherworldly cover of Eric's Trip's "Sand," and the epic "The Glow." The former utilizes a shuffling drum sample, and layer after tasty layer of indistinguishable instrumentation and harmonizing vocals, before cutting off abruptly mid-verse. The latter, which stands up there with Summer Hymns' "New Underdressment" as one of the most brilliant psych-rock songs of the year, weaves several loosely connected segments together into a disjointed, yet brilliantly self-referential epic. Most important of all, perhaps, is the quality of songwriting demonstrated throughout-- as out there as the construction of the songs may be, the essential elements of melody, chord structure, rhythm, and instrumentation never suffer.

The rest of It Was Hot is similarly awesome, culminating with the ominous swell of guitar and keyboards that closes the record. It's a perfectly fitting ending to a brilliant album-- dynamic and complex, yet fragile and strangely beautiful. The album is a shining example of the fact that the best rock songs are those that don't go out of their way to be rock songs.

-Matt LeMay