Buzzcocks
Modern
[Go-Kart]
Rating: 3.5
I always worry when aging legends like the Buzzcocks decide, for no obvious
reason, that they need to "update" their sound. Ah, ya blighters! Why, why?!
I guess the 'Cocks didn't have the money to hire quirky mixing- board doctors
like Tchad Blake, Mitchell Froom, or the Dust Brothers to administer this hip,
new reconstructive sonic surgery they were evidently aching for. Unfortunately,
Modern suffers from some lesser producer's tiresome technological
quackery, and lawsuit- worthy studio malpractice.
Yes, there was a time when Steve Diggle and Pete Shelley were two of the greatest
guitar players alive, specializing in cyclonic chord changes, imaginative riffs
and snappy solos while also creating some of the greatest pogo- ready pop- punk
songs anywhere on the planet. Of course, that was 20 years ago, and since those
days, they've lost touch with their melodic sides. The barbed- wire hooks are
few and far between, and their once- thrilling twin- guitar interplay is nearly
non- existent.
I suppose I should've counted on the title Modern manifesting itself in
the music as rhythmically- sterile programmed drums, sputtering synth blips
and other quasi- contemporary, generic techno- noise. I'm not sure I'm ready
for this "technologically advanced" version of the Buzzcocks, which basically
translates to: "We're not old out- of- touch geezers! We know what the kids
want!"
"But Mike," you say. "You're just a narrow- thinking brute who puts too much
emphasis on the role of the guitar in rock music. Embrace the new sounds of
futuristic plasticity!" Well, that's only half the trouble. There's a real
essential dynamic missing here-- a certain momentum few of these songs never
seem to generate. Stillborn rhythms weigh down the album (especially in its
second half) which makes for songs that just hang in some purgatorial mid- tempo
suspension, never receiving the apt propulsion they sorely need. The guitar
riffs are static sonic punctuation, at best. And all but gone are those
inimitable Buzzcocks vocal harmonies.
All I know is that, after three listens to Modern, I feel like Bob Segar
reminiscin' 'bout them days of old. And I'm desperately waiting for one of these
songs to lodge itself in my memory banks. "Well, Mike," you say. "Your skull's
reinforced with those steel plates you received after that nasty Gulf War injury.
Good music naturally tends to bounce right off that armored cranium of yours."
Um... that could be the case, too.
As much as it pains me to say this, Modern is wholly ill- conceived and
mind- numbingly dull. You'd think that after a sketchy '80s output and a few
years rest to build on the near- misses of 1993's Trade Test Transmissions
(an album that sported the Buzzcocks- of- old greatness on at least two tracks),
and 1996's All Set, they'd finally craft another classic album. Yet only
a few scattered moments on Modern betray even a hint of what the Shelley-
Diggle duo is really capable of.
The first cut, "Soul On a Rock," is close to what you'd expect from these guys,
although it still sounds a tad too over- processed and streamlined. "Rendevous"
sounds like something Blondie could have used as album filler circa 1980 (deduce
what you will from that vague assessment). And the feeble "Why Compromise?" treads
in Duran Duran territory, at best. Sure, there's nothing wrong with a little fine-
tuning, augmentation, or experimentation in one's sound. But what about that bit
of wisdom about not fixing something when it isn't broken?
The problem here is that no artistic boundaries are even being slightly nudged here.
Modern just seems like a weak attempt by a once- great band to simply sound
"current," whatever that means. The songwriting has obviously taken a back seat to
these new, half- hearted experiments as trite, geriatric platitudes (see "Speed of
Life" and "Thunder of Hearts," for exceptional examples of this) run rampant in the
lyrics. Whatever happened to that glorious Pete Shelley wit? Is this really the same
guy responsible for the boisterous sarcasm, angst, and humor infusing everything from
"Orgasm Addict" to "Oh Shit?"
Sadly, Modern is a tumescent blight on an otherwise respectable body of work
from this band. Shelley and the boys should probably either revert back to what they
do best or just give up, move back to the Manchester suburbs and begin collecting
their social security pensions. Sorry, fellas. Somebody get that damned Howard DeVoto
on the phone, pronto. Your old blokes need help.
Just as surely as the Rolling Stones will never write another "Honky Tonk Woman" or
"Brown Sugar," it pretty safe to say that, at this rate, the Buzzcocks will likely
never again approach the catchy brilliance of "Ever Fallen in Love," "I Don't Mind"
or any number of essential tracks written during their fallow '77- '80 period. Will
the Buzzcocks, like the Stones, simply resign themselves to the fact that their best
years are behind them? Will they mechanically toss off a mediocre new album every
so often, simply as an excuse to tour, or just to address the public with the
implication that they're still around after all these years. There must be better
ways of preserving great legacies.
-Michael Sandlin