Munki
Michael Segal / Alternative Press
06.1998
06.1998
The Jesus and Mary Chain
Munki
Without a god's eye no one would have predicted that the Jesus And Mary Chain would release their most realized album in sound an songwriting 14 years after their debut - at a time when their relevance is practically nil. The excusable indifference most may exhibit toward this recording should dissipate as the first chord progression of "I Love Rock'n'Roll" pulls the listener by his/her once-sneakered feet into its sublime teen-pop lust. In their mid-30s, William and Jim Reid will now suffer attacks of being juvenile or cartoonish. But with this song they state their case (in adult, Lou Reed-like style): "I love rock and roll/I love what I'm doing." No apologies for their adherence to this sound: stolen riffs from rock circa 1962-66, danger beats, oversexed nasal vocals, dirty/noisy thrusts of guitar, Reed/Richards/Wilson and rhyming "head" with "dead."
Munki has none of the padding that has plagued previous Mary Chain output, barring the oft-cited cavern-howl classic Psychocandy or the beautifully inconsequential masterstroke Stoned and Dethroned (a concept album about those three chords). Now over the alternative/Lollapalooza redundancy within which they vainly attempted to be vital (Honey's Dead era), the Mary Chain now look back with wizened eyes, comfortably self-conscious, glumly referential to the now and stubbornly intent on not losing their very specific feel for the outsider.
"I think I'm going out of style," William Reid sings at the close of "Never Understood" (no relation to 1985's "Never Understand"), his Plastic Ono Band-style confessional/denouncement (see resemblance to "God"). We sense a self-awareness of their veteran (!) status at this point. (Could Jagger have, as he should have long ago, sung this?) Reid remembers "the days before... America... and Rolling Stone" then succumbing to a natural "Salt Of The Earth" (Stones' Beggars Banquet) sentiment: "Rape the plains and close the planet down... why don't you drink with me?"
If this is the album's centerpiece, its bookends are "I Love Rock'n'Roll" and 1996's "I Hate Rock'n'Roll." The former is a joyous affirmation to the latter's contempt for the only industry for which they are suited. This self-deprecating sense of humor has always been an admirable Mary Chain trait. They've hit on a new personal style with Munki, exploring their actual feelings rather than previous mythical rock stances. This new open-minded-ness has expanded their musical palette as well.
The Stooge-ism and Velvets fixation have been so thoroughly appropriated they bear just this mention. And the dark light of the Rolling Stones had to give. So perhaps, post-Oasis, they can no longer reasonably exist in their usual alternate Beatle-less universe. "Supertramp" borrows the mesmeric triplets of "Tomorrow Never Knows." "Black"'s unprecedented sophisticated song styling recalls Rubber Soul via Big Star with its great buttressed verses collapsing finally into folk-rock arabesques. William even sings, "I love Beatle John, she loves Beatle Paul" in "I Can't Find The Time For Time."
The overall sound of Munki is not so much an effect of stunted growth as the Mary Chain accepting their limitations, exceeeding within them and refusing to flower their sound with moderne technological concessions in order to smell new. Instead they release a 14-year build-up of pheromones to seduce us.
From the public's perspective, the Mary Chain nearly have been made redundant: the too-cool, surly-brother bit being co-opted by the Gallaghers, Spiritualized hogging the drugged VU seesaw and the omnipresent technological aloofments of electronic-dance music turning anything in blues scale to pre-Edison algae.
When all the arguments are against rock, the Mary Chain don't retort, but run and hide in their rooms and sulk in their bunkbeds - and win. Munki is possibly the Reid brothers' most purposely dumb album as well as their smartest, possessing the brilliance to allow the Jesus And Mary Chain to naturally become a genre unto themselves. (SubPop)
Munki
Without a god's eye no one would have predicted that the Jesus And Mary Chain would release their most realized album in sound an songwriting 14 years after their debut - at a time when their relevance is practically nil. The excusable indifference most may exhibit toward this recording should dissipate as the first chord progression of "I Love Rock'n'Roll" pulls the listener by his/her once-sneakered feet into its sublime teen-pop lust. In their mid-30s, William and Jim Reid will now suffer attacks of being juvenile or cartoonish. But with this song they state their case (in adult, Lou Reed-like style): "I love rock and roll/I love what I'm doing." No apologies for their adherence to this sound: stolen riffs from rock circa 1962-66, danger beats, oversexed nasal vocals, dirty/noisy thrusts of guitar, Reed/Richards/Wilson and rhyming "head" with "dead."
Munki has none of the padding that has plagued previous Mary Chain output, barring the oft-cited cavern-howl classic Psychocandy or the beautifully inconsequential masterstroke Stoned and Dethroned (a concept album about those three chords). Now over the alternative/Lollapalooza redundancy within which they vainly attempted to be vital (Honey's Dead era), the Mary Chain now look back with wizened eyes, comfortably self-conscious, glumly referential to the now and stubbornly intent on not losing their very specific feel for the outsider.
"I think I'm going out of style," William Reid sings at the close of "Never Understood" (no relation to 1985's "Never Understand"), his Plastic Ono Band-style confessional/denouncement (see resemblance to "God"). We sense a self-awareness of their veteran (!) status at this point. (Could Jagger have, as he should have long ago, sung this?) Reid remembers "the days before... America... and Rolling Stone" then succumbing to a natural "Salt Of The Earth" (Stones' Beggars Banquet) sentiment: "Rape the plains and close the planet down... why don't you drink with me?"
If this is the album's centerpiece, its bookends are "I Love Rock'n'Roll" and 1996's "I Hate Rock'n'Roll." The former is a joyous affirmation to the latter's contempt for the only industry for which they are suited. This self-deprecating sense of humor has always been an admirable Mary Chain trait. They've hit on a new personal style with Munki, exploring their actual feelings rather than previous mythical rock stances. This new open-minded-ness has expanded their musical palette as well.
The Stooge-ism and Velvets fixation have been so thoroughly appropriated they bear just this mention. And the dark light of the Rolling Stones had to give. So perhaps, post-Oasis, they can no longer reasonably exist in their usual alternate Beatle-less universe. "Supertramp" borrows the mesmeric triplets of "Tomorrow Never Knows." "Black"'s unprecedented sophisticated song styling recalls Rubber Soul via Big Star with its great buttressed verses collapsing finally into folk-rock arabesques. William even sings, "I love Beatle John, she loves Beatle Paul" in "I Can't Find The Time For Time."
The overall sound of Munki is not so much an effect of stunted growth as the Mary Chain accepting their limitations, exceeeding within them and refusing to flower their sound with moderne technological concessions in order to smell new. Instead they release a 14-year build-up of pheromones to seduce us.
From the public's perspective, the Mary Chain nearly have been made redundant: the too-cool, surly-brother bit being co-opted by the Gallaghers, Spiritualized hogging the drugged VU seesaw and the omnipresent technological aloofments of electronic-dance music turning anything in blues scale to pre-Edison algae.
When all the arguments are against rock, the Mary Chain don't retort, but run and hide in their rooms and sulk in their bunkbeds - and win. Munki is possibly the Reid brothers' most purposely dumb album as well as their smartest, possessing the brilliance to allow the Jesus And Mary Chain to naturally become a genre unto themselves. (SubPop)
