Clinic
Walking with Thee
[Domino; 2002]
Rating: 7.2
Somewhere in the town where you live is a middle-aged man who's been in a band
since his late teens. His belly wobbles around under his too-tight, stained white
tank top and his oil-slicked hair is tied up in a ponytail. To pay the bills, he
does sound at the local bar. He hangs out at the local record store, selling off
his old vinyl with disclaimers like "we almost opened for them once," and "yeah,
I heard that his sister was really into the band." He doesn't have a family, aside
from the four other middle-aged men he hangs out with on weekends and the drummer's
13-year-old nephew, who they recruited when their old rhythm guitarist moved to
Arizona. This man likes beer. He likes Led Zeppelin. And although he's never heard
of Clinic, he fucking hates them.
The world is full of aging, frustrated career musicians who've struggled their
whole lives to write a single song that doesn't sound like AC/DC's "Big Balls."
And yet, only one proper album into their careers, Clinic managed to accomplish
several of the most coveted goals of rock musicians: they amassed a small but
fiercely dedicated following, received almost unanimous critical praise from the
likes of John Peel, and they toured with one of the most successful bands in the
world. Perhaps most importantly (and most impressively), they had utterly mastered
their art.
Internal Wrangler sounded as good as an album like Internal Wrangler
could possibly sound-- and Internal Wrangler was the only album that
sounded like Internal Wrangler. Having conquered their own unique brand
of dirty, beautifully awkward garage rock, Clinic was left to seek out new castles
to storm. With Walking with Thee, they venture towards a darker, more
mythical castle, but seem stuck halfway between their past victories and their
new aspirations.
Lyrically and musically, this album is darker and more austere than its predecessor.
While Internal Wrangler seemed to radiate an immediate nervous energy,
Walking with Thee is much more detached. "Harmony" opens the record
promisingly, with a spooky electric piano and hypnotic bassline providing a
backdrop for Ade Blackburn's nasal, reptilian vocals. Here, the combination of
Blackburn's more withdrawn (and more decipherable) vocal delivery and the similarly
lucid production works wonderfully. The song's ethereal refrain of "fill yourself
with dreams" is absolutely haunting, and one of the greatest moments Clinic has
laid to tape.
"The Equaliser," one of four songs from this album performed in August of 2000
on John Peel's radio show (and later retitled), begins to incorporate the more
dynamic, pulsating energy of Internal Wrangler with a new, darker side
of Clinic, but never follows through. The moment when all the instruments cut out
and Blackburn intones, "We hoped for the best and the best then we left so," is
absolutely fantastic. But the rest of the song never goes much of anywhere.
"Welcome," once known as "The Jouster," sounds like it could have been taken
directly off of Internal Wrangler, but the absence of the rough energy
that helped make that album so incredible leaves "Welcome" feeling a bit limp by
comparison.
The album's title track also bears a very strong resemblance to the band's earlier
work-- but the song itself is so good that it would be hard to levy any kind of
serious complaint against it. With a driving beat, trademark fuzzy organ and bass
arrangement, and some of the most urgently mumbly vocals to be found on the album,
"Walking with Thee" is a short, sweet reminder of what made Clinic so great in
the first place. Sadly, the same can't be said for "Pet Eunoch" and "Mr. Moonlight,"
which sound almost like carbon copies of Internal Wrangler's "Hippy Death
Suite" and "Earth Angel," respectively.
Again utilizing a repeating electric piano figure, "Come Into Our Room" sounds a
bit like a more subdued version of "Harmony." The same electric piano is coupled
with the exact bassline from "Voodoo Wop," to limited effect. "Sunlight Bathes
Our Home" opens with a slight variation on the opening of Internal Wrangler's
title track, played by a clarinet. Internal Wrangler was an album rich
with contrast-- wherever there was a steady, fuzzed-out organ, there was a shifty
bassline or syncopated drumbeat to underscore it. This masterful arrangement left
the album with a slightly unsettling sense of perpetual motion that seems
underplayed a bit on this record.
Finally, with its closing track, Walking with Thee picks up where "Harmony"
left off. On "For the Wars," Clinic recaptures the cold, haunting aesthetic that
makes the album's opening track so engaging-- this time as a ballad, instead of
as a jittery rock number. Dreamy guitars, reverb-soaked background vocals, and
some of Ade Blackburn's most affecting lyrics to date make "For the Wars" a
perfect realization of the newer, more crystalline elements of Clinic's sound.
It's pretty much a given that most bands work largely from formula. If the band
is good, odds are they're working from a self-composed formula, rather than taking
cues entirely from their influences. If they're really good, they can mix things
up enough to keep their formula from becoming transparent. On Internal Wrangler,
and the better parts of Walking with Thee, Clinic managed to be distinctive
without ever sounding formulaic. In parts of this album's squishy middle, though,
Clinic seems far too comfortable relying upon the melodies of songs they've already
written.
Ultimately, Walking with Thee is neither an album of triumph nor of
disappointment. Its first and last tracks hint at a new direction for Clinic that
could, if fully realized, become something utterly brilliant. Yet, much of this
record remains stuck between the raw vitality of Internal Wrangler and the
detached, haunting beauty that's hinted at on "For the Wars" and "Harmony."
Thankfully, the album is less of a tragic misstep than an awkward straddle. And
at this point, there's very little doubt that Clinic are perfectly capable of
turning awkwardness into brilliance.
-Matt LeMay, February 26th, 2002