Go-Betweens
The Friends of Rachel Worth
[Jetset]
Rating: 6.5
Once upon a time, everything the local "modern rock" station played sounded like
The Friends of Rachel Worth. Before Papa Roach, before the Presidents of
the United States of America, before even the Toadies, the likes of the Lightning
Seeds, Lloyd Cole, and the Blue Aeroplanes dominated the alternative airwaves.
I'm not going to attempt some kind of authoritative history of the era, since I
didn't get a chance to exercise my 12 year-old critical skills that often before
Nirvana broke. As I recall it, though, there were lots of keyboard-augmented,
mid-tempo British (and faux-British) bands, tempered only by the occasional
Jane's Addiction outburst.
The Go-Betweens were better than that scene, and content to be Australian. But
their sound wasn't fundamentally different from many bands in the post-new wave/
pre-grunge era. When Robert Forster and Grant McLennan released the first
Go-Betweens album in 1981, their smart, organic approach to pop was no doubt
refreshing. Still, by the time they disbanded in 1989, there were numerous
aspirants to the clever pop throne, and even if those bands never wrote songs
quite as well as the Go-Betweens, they often sold more records.
The album opens on a high note with McLennan's "Magic in Here," a tuneful,
bittersweet anthem with a propulsive bass line. But while 11 years have
passed since the last Go-Betweens album saw release, the band's sound hasn't
changed significantly. Yes, Forster and McLennan recruited a good percentage
of the northwest indie scene to appear on this record (Elliott Smith, Corin
Tucker and Carrie Brownstein of Sleater-Kinney, Sam Coomes of Quasi, and Janet
Weiss of, erm, both), but their presence is largely undetectable. "The Clock"
is a notable exception, beginning with an unmistakable edgy Brownstein riff,
but the song quickly retreats into wistful jangle-pop. Even when Tucker
contributes her normally explosive vocals to "Going Blind," her harmonies with
McLennan evoke Papas Fritas more than punk rock.
I'm not deluded. I didn't expect the Go-Betweens to start rocking just because
they hung out in Portland for a little while. In fact, "German Farmhouse," the
most aggressive song on the album, is easily its least appealing. When the aging
Forster makes a shaky attempt at bravado and earnestly croons, "There was a rumor
that Pavarotti would sing there/ To raise funds for a music school, but then the
whole thing just vanished into thin air/ I said, thin air," it's just too much
to take.
Forster's songwriting, in fact, proves consistently disappointing. "Spirit"
and "When She Sang about Angels," a tribute to Patti Smith, strive for meaningful
sentiment, but Forster's awkward phrasing makes it difficult to listen to without
a smirk. "When she sang about a boy/ Kurt Cobain/ I thought what a shame/ It
wasn't about/ Tom Verlaine." Uh, what? It's dispiriting to see the composer of
gems like "Spring Rain" and "The House That Jack Kerouac Built" in such poor
form.
For a band returning from a decade-long sabbatical, these guys are surprisingly
spry. Their consistency is also, to some degree, their downfall, since they
still sound uncannily mid-'80s. And whereas past Go-Betweens records, like 1984's
Spring Hill Fair and 1988's 16 Lovers Lane, have maintained their
charm after the passage of more than a decade, The Friends of Rachel Worth
comes off as a relic of another era. New generations of Aussie pop bands have
emerged since those early days, and the wit and harmonies of the Lucksmiths and
the subtle melancholy of Sodastream sound fresher and more relevant now. But
even past their prime, the Go-Betweens are still better than anything on present
alternative radio playlists.
-Meg Zamula