Magnetic Fields
Ocean Beach
Rock ‘n’ roll’s raucous bellow is louder than ever. In the few years since Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” became a nationwide hit, aggressive guitar rock has become stupendously popular. Less talented but equally noisy bands like Green Day and the Offspring are selling records by the millions. Media giants have set up radio formats across the country just to blare the latest bombast by Bush or the next nugatory nugget by Stone Temple Pilots.
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For every strutting, histrionic guitar hero there’s always been a whey-faced, poetry-loving dweeb who decides that he or she too can “rock.” In the mid-60s while the Kinks, Stones, and Who were bashing out deafening paeans to rebelliousness, the Zombies were penning ornate, wistful minor-key tunes about heartache. In an even greater affront to rock convention the band made keyboards the focal point of their sound. Groups like the Moody Blues continued the wimp-rock lineage through the 70s.
In spite of, or perhaps because of, the current deluge of strident, raw-throated guitar bands, wimp rock is experiencing a renaissance. Labels that are normally bastions of feral guitar music, like Touch & Go and Merge, have recently released records by unabashedly quiet bands.
The wimp-rock mantle fits most snugly around the drooping shoulders of the Red House Painters, a group led by eternally forlorn singer-songwriter Mark Kozelek. Like the American Music Club and Idaho, the Red House Painters wear their Prozac on their sleeves and generally use slow, slower, and fossilized tempos.
Ivy’s debut LP, Realistic, is a striking setting of twelve light pop gems. While there’s nothing ground breaking about the songwriting, the record overflows with the kind of gently poignant melodies that have distinguished the best wimp-rock bands from the Zombies on. The languid “Everyday” is a particularly memorable bit of low-key pop genius.
