Gluecifer
Tender is the Savage
[Sub Pop]
Rating: 3.5
After a period of thoughtful self-examination, I've arrived at a few
uncomfortable realizations about myself. For one thing, I've come to
the conclusion that I just don't know how to rock. Maybe all that
self-examination has something to do with it.
This is a distressing situation. Sure, there's plenty of room in the
world for people like me without being forced into squarehood. There's
atmospheric pop and twee and dance and rap. All of those things are
still relatively acceptable, even if they are in direct violation of
a few of the Laws of Rock. But am I really ready to be put out to
pasture at such a young age?
But let's talk about rock for a minute, here. And not "rock" as in
the all-inclusive banner of popular culture, but real rock,
with riffs and huge drums and crazed distortion. The kind that
sometimes calls for the spelling R-A-W-K. Now, everytime I've used
the word "rawk" in a review-- which, to my editor's chagrin, is
surprisingly often-- Ryan has corrected my spelling. So I must
stipulate here that I'm talking about exclusively about fucking
rawk, man. Not dumb pansy rock.
For a brief but potent period in recent musical history, Sub Pop
was home to some of the most respectable rawk of the moment. But
over the years, their roster has gradually disbanded or signed
away, and the quality level has dropped off into unchartable
regions of uninspired riffage. And apparently, they're even
beginning to run out of mediocre punk bands in the American
northwest these days; they've now inexplicably expanded their
reach to other continents in order to handpick bands as
unwittingly nondescript as Oslo, Norway's Gluecifer.
Europeans who make thoroughly American-sounding music have long
been able to avoid the discomforting issues raised by white
musicians who make so-called "black" music. Perhaps this is
due to the inherent camp value of husky Scandinavian guys
wielding their guitars in ways that have been considered
hilarious on this side of the Atlantic since the 1980s.
But as previously stated, I don't know how to rock. So, in all
honesty, I can't expect you to trust my opinion of something so
blatantly rocking as Gluecifer's Tender is the Savage. But
if your will to rock has also been worn down by years of shameless
experimentation and exoticism, you can probably sympathize with
my handicap.
If anything can be said for Gluecifer, it's that their American
punk schtick is thoroughly convincing. If not for the availability
of information denoting otherwise, I'd be unquestioningly under
the impression that Sub Pop swept these guys out of the usual
corners of Seattle. Frontman Biff Malibu hams it up through every
song with the swagger of vintage Glenn Danzig, and the band follows
suit with a vigorously riffing assault. But if there's one aspect
of American punk that Gluecifer haven't nailed yet, it's the
economical approach. One of our power trios could easily turn out
the sound Gluecifer make with five members. And Tender is the
Savage wastefully spreads roughly forty minutes' worth of
music over two discs for the sake of a useless multimedia feature.
Okay, someone just knocked on my door asking me to turn the music
down. I actually had it on pretty loud. Maybe that means I'm on
the road to recovery. But I think I need a more graceful transition
album than Tender is the Savage. Who knows? Whatever the
case, I'm sure that if I ever do attain full rocking status again,
I'll be reaching for Back in Black, not Gluecifer.
-Al Shipley