Fugazi
The Argument
[Dischord; 2001]
Rating: 8.5
This past January, I was one of a few hundred lucky individuals jammed into the
sweaty confines of the Middle East Downstairs in Cambridge, Massachusetts,
checking out a triple bill of excellent bands: local roof-raisers Cracktorch,
jazz-rockers Karate, and the indomitable Dismemberment Plan. About halfway
through their set, the Plan stopped for a brief break between songs and Travis
Morrison, ever the insightful one, took a moment to acknowledge the fact that
the intersection outside the club had been christened Mark Sandman Square,
after the late Morphine frontman.
Applause erupted in honor of our local hero, a man who did a great deal of work
to help strengthen Boston's now-vibrant music scene in the mid-90s. Morrison
went on to muse that perhaps there would one day be an Ian MacKaye Circle in
Washington D.C., countering some initial laughter with the assertion that
nations like the Netherlands and Belgium are doing a better job of celebrating
our rich musical legacy than we are, erecting statues in honor of Charlie Parker
and John Coltrane in their squares.
Those comments have stuck with me, and I've come to think that it's a really
good idea-- MacKaye and Fugazi have been a major cultural force in the last
decade. They're worthy of public accolades. Over the course of seven albums
(counting Instrument and 13 Songs), they've plied a brand of
brutal, often Spartan post-punk that's never catered to fashion, while at the
same time garnering a large, devoted fanbase that sends their albums into the
Billboard Top 200 without the benefit of major label backing or radio
airplay.
Of course, one primary obstacle to a public memorial for the members of Fugazi
is the band's collective politics which, while moralistic and anti-corporate,
are hardly anti-capitalist as many have claimed. In fact, the band has fairly
been living the American dream, becoming successful on their own terms without
losing the rights to their music or creative direction. They've also taken an
active role in positioning their label, Dischord, at the fore of the indie pack;
over the years, the label has become the most reliable source of hard-hitting
post-punk around.
The Argument, Fugazi's first proper album since 1998's somewhat disjointed
End Hits, is yet another leap forward for a band that has constantly
pushed itself in new directions. For one thing, no Fugazi album has ever been
this melodic. For the first time ever, you can hum at least part of the melody
to every song on the record. As catchy as they sometimes were, you have to admit
that whistling "Bed for the Scraping" or "Sieve-Fisted Find" was never really
a prospect.
The album opens with an untitled bit of collage that marries static and police
radio transmissions to Amy Domingues' brooding cello drones, immediately setting
The Argument apart from the band's past work, before "Cashout" makes the
thoroughness of the transition even more apparent. Domingues' cello carries
counter-melodies to MacKaye's double-tracked singing throughout the song, which
itself is a sort of post-hardcore update of the Kinks' "Muswell Hillbilly."
MacKaye details a series of evictions as the city takes an apartment complex by
eminent domain to make room for a development. After spending so many years
screaming their sentiments in your ear, it's nice to see that Fugazi have come
to a point where they don't necessarily feel the need to raise their voices to
put their point across.
Joe Lally and Brendan Canty throw down a furious groove on "Full Disclosure" to
support Guy Picciotto's demented wailing ("I want a mutually assured destructive
life") amid screaming guitar interplay. It's excellent, but it's nothing we
haven't heard Fugazi do before, until the second verse, where Lally, Picciotto,
and MacKaye enter in three-part harmony. The juxtaposition between shockingly
smooth vocals (for Fugazi, anyway), and the jagged rhythmic interplay is
extremely effective.
The energy level stays high on "Epic Problem," as MacKaye delivers his lines
telegram-style, complete with shouts of "Stop!" between lines, which the band
dutifully obeys. "And inside I know I'm broken/ But I'm working as far as you
can see," he sings in the guitar and voice breakdown near the song's end, a
section that serves to highlight the fact that this is Fugazi's most produced
effort yet.
"Life and Limb," "The Kill," and "Strangelight" form the album's tense, even
spooky backbone, with a focus on melody and intertwining guitar parts, as well
as full production that recalls the sound of some of Red Medicine's more
ambitious moments. Picciotto's creepy rallying cry of, "Viva viva viva life
and limb" on "Life and Limb" is possibly his subtlest vocal ever, and the guitars
buzz like a bees' nest that you know is somewhere nearby, but can't quite locate.
There's a nervous tension in the song that energizes like the band's raging bulls
from their early days.
The cello in the coda of "Strangelight" reminds me, of all things, of the
Renaissance prog of the Electric Light Orchestra's ultra-bizarre first album,
No Answer, though the similarity ends with the cello. The coda also
incorporates some dark piano phrases, making for one of Fugazi's most interesting
timbrel moments yet. This leads into "Oh," a slow anti-globalization anthem
that stands out as the only song on the album that doesn't really satisfy.
Thankfully, "Ex-Spectator," one of several songs that benefits from the
contributions of second drummer Jerry Busher, quickly redeems things with
charging rhythms and more haywire guitar interplay. MacKaye shouts the lines,
"Looking out for cars and mortality/ Trying to find some sort of geometry/
Avoiding mistakes/ Keep an eye on every step I take," with the same unbridled
aggression he used to make such good use of back when Fugazi were still making
a name for themselves.
The galloping punk undertow of "Nightstop" supports what may be the best song
here, and the band even makes room for a restlessly strummed acoustic guitar
in the mix. There also appears to be some heavily EQ'd guitar tapping after
the second verse. It displays technical prowess without descending into the
depths of wankery that so many equally skilled musicians might find themselves
in. "The Argument" actually sets itself up to be a disappointing closer, with
some somewhat questionable stop/start rhythms and a wandering melody, but it
picks up after a curious ambient interlude, blasting to a close with a furious
swirl of ragged guitar, cymbals, and rumbling bass.
Fugazi have made a career out of crafting excellent albums, and with The
Argument, they've made one of their best. At this point, I don't see it
edging out Red Medicine or 13 Songs from the top of my Fugazi album
hierarchy, but it's certainly a worthy entry into their catalog, and proves that
they're still one of the most important bands in the world. The dedication of
Ian MacKaye Circle may still be a pipe dream, but that doesn't mean that he and
the other members of Fugazi don't deserve the honor.
-Joe Tangari, October 22nd, 2001