In 1982, jazz composer and self-proclaimed Saturnite Sun Ra recorded the song "Nuclear War" just as the Reaganization of the Cold War had swung into full effect. The song, a swampy, pulsating chant about the inevitable genocide that will ensue, sooner or later, as a result of nuclear weaponry, went largely unheard in the U.S. due to poor distribution, until seeing reissue recently as a part of the Chicago-based Atavistic label's Unheard Music Series. Twenty years on, the song now suddenly strikes with the same poignancy as it did upon release.

Yo La Tengo have always made cover songs an integral part of their repertoire, and the release of their four-track Nuclear War EP follows in that tradition. The song began showing up in live sets almost two years ago, but has just now been recorded. And while the band's tastes are sweeping and informed, never before has one of their covers been so apropos outside of its immediate rock context.

"Nuclear War" might not be a post-9/11 tribute, per se, but it rightly encapsulates the languid panic of a post-ironic America. While Alan Jackson celebrates his inanity for foreign policy and Steve Earle proves himself too careerist to impact anything outside of his own record sales, Yo La Tengo see how beautifully this song summarizes our nation's apathetic despair: "It's a motherfucker/ Don't you know/ If they push that button/ Yo ass gotta go."

Poignancy aside, the single does dull the senses with its uncanny ability to become increasingly repetitive. Four distinct versions mark the single, and it's difficult to cross the finish line of one track knowing that ahead lies more of the same. The disc opens with the band chanting the song's mutating refrain for nearly eight minutes, accompanied by nothing more than tribal percussion. Sun Ra achieved an eeriness by only coolly stating the obvious, and with his relaxed delivery, he created an uneasy, irresistible tension. Yo La Tengo, however, have greatly accelerated the song itself, and stripped it of its fun. On the opening track, they seem almost to be pleading for the message to be heard, and their somewhat morose delivery dilutes its power.

While the cacophonous horn trio on the 15-minute third version is perhaps musically the closest to Ra's original, version two is the best homage. Although it's nothing more than version one's backing track with the addition of an otherworldly guitar loop and a choir of children in the call-and-response, the resulting track is almost devilishly cartoonish. Upon first listen, the children create a lighter atmosphere (and a hilarious ploy when saying "motherfucker" over and over), but as the song plays on, the kids don't seem quite so funny anymore. The naïveté involved in an actual nuclear assault sets in, and with every response from the children comes an increasingly unsettling feeling. The song conveys the realization that everyone's in the hot seat, not just the adults. It's this twisted sense of structure that ultimately owes itself to Ra.

I won't get into version four too much, as it's just a remix by the admittedly incredible Mike Ladd, and seems to exist here solely as additional bang-for-the-buck. It essentially closes the disc by rehashing the first three-quarters, adding a dubbed-out drone, a curious organ breakdown, and some additional percussion and effects. Needless to say, after a straight half-hour of this already repetitive song, we just don't need to hear another take on it.

It's hard to point a finger at a band like Yo La Tengo because the intentions are obviously good. They do manage to kill two birds with one stone by revealing the coolness of their record collection while responding to a cultural state of affairs, but unfortunately, the results are less than stellar. Lucky for us, we can still look forward to the pending full-length due early next year, which, if their previous four albums are any indication, will be another winner.

-Kyle Reiter, December 2nd, 2002