Imperial Teen
On
[Merge; 2002]
Rating: 7.7
No matter how hard the Powers That Be might try to suppress it, the
desolate nighttime streets of suburbia will always echo with music--
just as sure as they will never truly be desolate. After all, what's
a suburb without a legion of teenagers cruising the well-trimmed
boulevards-- numbed by boredom, aimless but intent, their windows
rolled down and their stereos cranked to overcome the rushing noise
of the wind hitting their faces? Imperial Teen sound a lot like those
suburban young'uns: aimless but intent, satisfied with what they've
got but longing for more. And though they haven't gone so far as to
tell me so, it seems to me that they really want is to be the band
blasting on repeat from some trapped teen's crappy stereo. They make
music that's devoid of purpose and they're proud of it. Just like
The Big Lebowski's would-be nihilists and that dude with the
mohawk that hangs in front of the White Hen smoking cloves, Imperial
Teen want you to believe they don't give a shit about anything, but
something about the delivery-- be it a glint in the eye or a hint of
fire in the vocals-- betrays them.
The upbeat opener to On, the third record from ex-Faith No More
keyboardist Roddy Bottum and friends, is a fast-paced ditty with a racing
bassline complimented by simple, subtle guitar and female "doo-be-doo's."
All four band members-- two girls, two guys-- trade off the lead vocals,
each with a different take on the same quick, breathy delivery. It's
a race to the finish that sets a tone of urgency and import for the
album that follows. Which is funny, because Imperial Teen spend most of
On indulging a near-fatal case of apathy-- the kind that anyone
whose formative years were spent wasting away in suburbia will know all
too well.
Like the legions of lackadaisical teenagers wandering the fake neon
streets, Imperial Teen is fed up to the point of madness with the
seeming inconsequentiality of it all, yet comforted by the predictability
and ease of suburban malaise. A recurring theme of impassivity manifests
itself again and again in lines like, "Those who I speak of are my friends/
Gentlemen and gentlewomen/ Can't wait for their lives to begin/ Oh so
exciting then." There's also a hint of uncertainty in the delivery-- or
maybe it's a sarcastic nudge-- that suggests this scenario is more than
a little familiar to the members of Imperial Teen. On is filled
with stories of people waiting for their lives to begin, about people too
busy doing nothing to do much of anything, too content with the pointless
parts of day-to-day life to seek an overall purpose.
The band adds yet another layer of irony by employing upbeat,
catchy-as-they-come melodies to these detached, dogged narrations.
The band's sound hasn't changed much since 1999's What Is Not to
Love, save the addition of a few acoustic guitars and drum
machines. Imperial Teen is still all about the upbeat melodies, the
Pixies-flavored basslines, lots of backup female vocal harmonizing,
and lustful, throaty vocals that border on self-parody. But it's
effective, and the able production by Anna Waronker (ex-That Dog) and
Steve McDonald (Redd Kross) beefs up the sugary tightness of their
sound.
While much of the album leans toward typical rock song clichés (songs
about wanting someone, losing someone, or loving someone) there are
moments where uncertainty comes into play. Like any young, wistful
suburbanite, Imperial Teen find themselves perplexed and intrigued by
sex and issues of sexuality, and they take a small bit of pride in
their confusion. On "Million $ Man," a self-proclaimed perfect catch
reads off a list of accomplishments and wonders why he's alone; on
"My Spy" Schwartz delivers lines like, "We are partners in crime/
You're always the bride.../ You don't have to decide until it's light,"
and, "You're dating boys but you have a girlfriend on the side."
The only true passion here is for apathy itself. On "Captain," Schwartz
& Co. simultaneously reject both the importance of the world around them
and the possibility of success and fame as a music-making unit,
matter-of-factly stating, "On the possibility/ Of us making history/
Let the captain choose the teams/ I'm not as worried as I seem."
Sure, we've all heard a thousand songs like these before, but
Imperial Teen aren't about innovation; they're about appreciating
the ordinary, even as you long for something more. There are no
bells and whistles here; no lyrics of colossal world-shattering
importance.
Yet On succeeds not in spite of its simplicity, but because of
it. Imperial Teen are happy with what they do, they're good at it.
It's fulfilling for them, yet they're too human not to long for
something more. This is music best suited for drive-thru drive-throughs
and unchanging landscapes of strip malls and condos. Or better yet,
for lying in the last pure patch of undeveloped land left in your
suburban wasteland of choice, staring at the stars and pondering your
own inability to do anything about the forward march of progress.
-David M. Pecoraro, June 25th, 2002