Hey Wimpus: the Early Recordings of Paul Chastain and Ric Menck. Action Musik, 1998.
The Ballad of Ric Menck. Summershine Records, 1997.
In the Presence of Greatness. Action Musik, 2001.
Teenage Symphonies to God. 550 Music, 1994.
Heavy Changes. Action Musik, 1998.
Free Expression. Bobsled Records, 1999.
There is a dual will to happiness, a dialectics of happiness: a hymnic
and an elegiac form. The one is the unheard-of, the unprecedented,
the height of bliss; the other, the eternal repetition, the eternal
restoration of the original, the first happiness.
- Walter Benjamin, "The Image of Proust"
Nothing defines the "pop" in pop culture so well as the category "deserves to be popular but for some reason isn't." There is no doubt that Velvet Crush, whose two constant members are Paul Chastain and Ric Menck, belong in this category, but what does it mean? The number of people that Velvet Crush are able to count as fans is small. Given this fact, is it sour grapes on the part of fans because they aren't actually popular? Perhaps there is something utopian in the sentiment: that one day, bands like Velvet Crush will also be popular and not merely pop. More likely, however, the note sounded is one of nostalgia. Velvet Crush's sound (and more than their sound, as we will see) is clearly reminiscent of the pop of another era, specifically the mid-sixties to early seventies. Even more specifically, the sound derives from a few key sources: the Beatles, the Byrds, and the Beach Boys. 2 To some, this period must seem like a better time, when the Beatles really were popular, and deserved it as well. Either that very combination (actual and deserved popularity) is rare, as with the Beatles, or the sort of pop that Velvet Crush and others dream about is a historical moment to which they pay homage. In any case, the kind of pop that Velvet Crush play may be the name for a genre, or for an attitude, or perhaps for a style. It certainly doesn't describe actual popularity. Is actual popularity necessary to be pop? To call something pop when it has no chance of being popular is to be at once hopeful and pessimistic. It is to recognize oneself as standing outside the mainstream of taste, to be proud of this, really, and also to imagine a time, past or future, when one's tastes are justified by being in heavy rotation on MTV (that is, assuming MTV actually played videos). This tension between hope and pessimism seems to me an essential pop attitude, and it is one that is embodied in Velvet Crush's music.
Despite the crucial importance of the bands cited above, there is an even more central progenitor of the sound of Velvet Crush and their scene; that band is Big Star. In many ways, Big Star can be seen to have created the category "deserves to be popular but aren't." The past several years, in fact, have probably represented the height of their fame, some 20 years after they broke up. 3 Their music combined British Invasion influences along with elements of indigenous American pop centered around their base of Memphis. Their lyrics dealt with classic pop music topics, primarily love (mostly unrequited), and they combined these often melancholy words with soaring melodies and gorgeous harmonies. These song elements can be found in the Beatles, Byrds, and Beach Boys as well (the latter band's Pet Sounds constitutes a master class on the subject); what makes Big Star such a crucial example of the pop I'm writing about (often called power pop) is their story, especially its obscurity. This non-repute resulted from bad record deals, infighting, early death, and horrible career moves, but also from being somewhat out of step from current music fashion. The result was a cultish reputation among cognoscenti that was carefully guarded for years and proved very influential for a number of other bands. It's no accident that on one of the very first Chastain and Menck 45s, when they were known as Choo Choo Train, there is a photo of a man with long hair obscuring his eyes, with a big smile, holding, clutching really, a vinyl copy of Big Star's first album #1 Record. Big Star are one of those bands whose work is foundational, like the Velvet Underground. The familiar story about the Velvet Underground is that only a few people actually listened to the band when they existed, but that every one of those people went on to form a band of their own. But for every R.E.M. (probably the best-known band said to have been influenced by Big Star) there are many more Velvet Crushes, bands who seem to emulate not just the sound, but also the obscurity of the foundational band.
***
In 1988, I worked in a local record store chain in Evanston, Illinois. By virtue of working there, I was part of a larger community of record store employees and obsessive fans. Directly across the street from where I worked was the best store in the area, Vintage Vinyl. Think, here, of Championship Vinyl in Hi Fidelity (and since this is the Chicago area I refer to, I suppose I mean the film version). The owner was an extremely reliable source for recommendations. I had lately conceived a desire for buying 7" records, AKA "the single." This was partly in reaction to all of the big, portentous albums coming out at that time. He pointed out to me a 45 by a band called Choo Choo Train, the first indication of a child-like reference that I would soon notice as part of a pattern. The title song was "High", and on the B-side was "Wishing on a Star" (both can be found on the CD Hey Wimpus: the Early Recordings of Paul Chastain and Ric Menck). The song titles were already hopeful-sounding. On the cover was a blue sky in the background, and in the foreground, a close-up of a young, blonde woman sucking on a lollipop. The title song continued these references to clichés of innocence as it opened with a child's music box playing "London Bridge." A sharp drum shot then launched music for which the word exuberant hardly suffices. The lyrics employed further images of conventional bliss: fields of clover, flight, blue skies, etc. The chorus ends with the invocation "may we always be so high" (followed by "and I think we might" as well as the decidedly less sunny "never wish to die"). Despite all of the happy associations of the 45, there was a strain of melancholy as well; of romantic regret and a sense that the things sung about were already disappearing. I was unprepared for music so simple, yet so artful. Of course, much of the appeal for me was the fact that I had grown up listening to the Beatles (clearly recognizable in these songs as important sources); they were the first band I can remember, in fact. Choo Choo Train were using a musical reference that I was utterly familiar with, not to mention nostalgic for. The fact that the words also conveyed a certain nostalgia merely reinforced the feeling.
These references to childhood and to the 60s, especially the 60s of the Beatles, the Beach Boys, and the Byrds (and the Hollies, etc.) are unmistakably nostalgic. Velvet Crush cultivate this nostalgia with the images on their CDs and with the language on the packaging: The Ballad of Ric Menck thanks several people, "all of whom are solid citizens!" Teenage Symphonies to God is made to resemble a 60s album ("custom-engineered for a full range of audio experiences," we're told). The video for the latter album's "Hold Me Up" is especially playful in this regard. Words flash across the screen informing us that we are witnessing "A Complete Teenage Sensation!" and "A Total Commercial Phenomenon!" At least they're aware of their irrelevance.
This is less about trying to recreate a certain sound (as might be said about certain Elephant 6 bands 4 ) than it is about a kind of attempt, as Benjamin said, to recapture "the first happiness." Velvet Crush are elegiac through and through, which perhaps explains why melancholy attaches itself to even their most up songs, as mist clings to waterways. Though the Beatles, et al., are clearly heavy influences, Velvet Crush are more than a kind of tribute band. This is because of the transformative work on this music performed by Big Star in the early 70s. Big Star were more than simply nostalgic for the 60s music I'm describing; they changed this music and created a genre. Think of them as a kind of reverse prism: into one end come different strands of colored light, and out of the other one pure beam of white light. Because it is a genre that Big Star have created, and not simply their own sound, bands following them are able to work within the parameters of that genre without simply reproducing their work, or the work of those who came before. In other words, don't expect to see Velvet Crush playing at your local Holiday Inn (unless, that is, they were going after an elaborately campy gesture . . .).
The music on that first Choo Choo Train 45 was just what I had been looking for, but didn't know it. I subsequently bought another Choo Choo Train 45, and then one by the Springfields (essentially the same group) and eventually CDs by Velvet Crush. The music contained that most essential of pop formulas: sunny music and sad words. In their early work, Menck and Chastain make a conscious effort to evoke both the 1960s and images of childhood. For example, the collection Hey Wimpus shows them posing with giant Crayolas, umbrellas, and generally affecting a fey demeanor. On their label's web site, someone hails the collection as the "roots of wimp rock." These idealized references to childhood and adolescence (and to specifically a certain kind of adolescence; this is not the music of teenage jocks, but rather that of those wimps and nerds who later become tastemakers) are markers for a certain community, which is to say that there is something utopian about the music as well. There is no doubt that part of the appeal of the lovely music produced by Velvet Crush in these early recordings is the fact that they are also so obscure. Knowing about and liking this music are the keys to an exclusive club. The Springfields' "Sunflower" (available on The Ballad of Ric Menck), alluded to before, was released on Sarah Records, a short-lived outfit operating out of someone's apartment in Bristol, England. Sarah only released 45s, which were accompanied by fold-out posters (e.g., a drawing of a cowboy tossing a lariat in the shape of North America) and a little note letting you know what was up in the world of Sarah. A sample from one note: "All except Sarahs 3 and 4 have Revolver/Cartel distribution (hoorah!) so should be grudgingly orderable if you stamp and pout expansively. But if you can't find them anywhere, and are truly close to tears, write to us!" It's not for nothing that the British music press labeled Sarah and its ilk "twee."
But the music journalists weren't invited to play. Sarah Records were not really part of the music business. Instead, Sarah Records and the bands released on the label were part of a community, one that believed in classic pop songs and also in a kind of gentleness. It seems strange, as I write this, to describe an aesthetic of gentleness, which is an indication of how rare such an outlook is in pop culture (and here is yet another parallel with the Beach Boys, Brian Wilson in particular). Many kinds of obscure pop music depend upon, and help to create, a small, far-flung, yet cohesive community. Part of the joy in liking an obscure band is finding other people who share your enthusiasm. The legacy of Sarah Records survives most prominently in Belle and Sebastian, both in their gentle music and in the whimsical liner notes. Belle and Sebastian have also been quite active in creating a Sarah-like community, both by being a musical focal point for other bands, and by hosting the Bowlie Weekender in England, a kind of celebration of all things twee.
Despite their early association with Sarah Records, Velvet Crush have taken a different route, one that can be clearly traced back to Big Star. While Big Star wrote many lovely, sad songs, they could also rock out, and Velvet Crush obviously see themselves more about the rocking out than they did in some of their early efforts. The images of youth remain, but they have become less arch and precious. As Choo Choo Train became the Springfields became Velvet Crush, they transitioned away from the more excessive childhood references and began to craft a pop that, while still nostalgic for the past, while still suggesting a better future, became capable of taking on more adult topics. In doing so, the tension between the beauty of the melodies and harmonies and the pain of the words became more acute.
The first album by Velvet Crush is In the Presence of Greatness. It's hampered by a murky production which doesn't allow for some of their strengths to get heard. This murkiness seems to derive from an attempt at a harder sound than they had tried before, which was a strong indication of the direction to follow. It is, however, full of Velvet Crush's hallmarks (melody, harmony, hooks, etc.) and certainly sets the stage for better things to come. Those better things were embodied in Teenage Symphonies to God. The earlier production problems had been cleared up, and TSTG featured some of the strongest songs to date. Standouts include "Atmosphere," "Faster Days," "This Life is Killing Me," etc. They also revealed a country influence to some of their songs for the first time. Perhaps it's more accurate to say that their ongoing interest in the Byrds began to extend to the Sweetheart of the Rodeo period. This association is cemented by their sole choice for a cover song on the CD, Gene Clark's "Why Not Your Baby." The manner in which the band introduces a country sound reveals a particular strength of Velvet Crush: their ability to take their influences and transform them into something their own. As loyal as they are to their sources, they do not merely repackage them. "Atmosphere" is especially impressive. The guitar hooks and vocal melody work well together to provide focus to a driving rhythm which propels the song forward with a sense of urgency. This musical sense compliments lyrics full of the need to act before things fall apart, and before any more time passes by. Like almost all pop music, the subject of the song is a problematic relationship, but there's nothing adolescent about the concerns here: the fact that relationships require a lot of work is fully acknowledged. Velvet Crush appear to be honing their work in their subsequent albums. 1999's Free Expression, the most recent album of new material as of this writing, seems an even more mature work while losing none of the joyful, gorgeous sounds that are the band's signature.
***
I have described the pop of Velvet Crush as though it were a genre and a name for a community, and so it is. But it means more, too, else I wouldn't have claimed, as I did at the beginning, that Velvet Crush's lack of popularity somehow defines pop. Pop music allows us the illusion that it relates to our own lives. Certain songs, bands, movements, speak to us and we claim them as our own. So while Velvet Crush pay some attention to creating a community (and they do this through the language on the packaging of their CDs, by the way they dress, and because they themselves came out of this scene and therefore respect its conventions), the primary way that people consume this music is by themselves (and is probably a characteristic of the community itself). This is part of the iconography of the scene; e.g., on the cover of Teenage Symphonies to God, there is a drawing of a shaggy-haired young man dressed in a striped t-shirt and blue jeans with white Converse sneakers listening to a boom box. The image evoked is of solitary pleasure. Certainly, this is almost the only way I have listened to them. When I want to interest someone in listening to this music, I loan them the CD to allow them to experience it by themselves. The tone of most of the songs is one of melancholy reflection. This sense of aloneness contributes to the feeling that one is among a few initiates who get what this is all about. I've mentioned already the importance of the small community that attaches itself to this style, and this leads us to a paradox: to embrace this form of popular music is to announce one's alienation from the popular culture of our time. Pop cannot be simply popular. This is clear. But why call Velvet Crush popular at all? Because they refer to past popular forms, and because they show a concern for pop culture which is obsessive, which is to say unusual, which is to say that by taking pop culture so seriously they show themselves to be hopelessly out of touch and therefore not popular. Normal people have a much more casual relation to pop music; they may listen to it, it may define a time or place for them, but it doesn't define them in the same way it does the fans of Velvet Crush et al. Allowing pop music to play this large of a role in one's life, it must be said, is also a hallmark of adolescence, which may be a reason why that time in one's life has been such a focus for Velvet Crush.
Despite my best efforts, I'm not able to "fix" Velvet Crush, to define them or their scene; nor, when all is said and done, do I really want to. For one thing, I'm too implicated myself. All of the great rock-pop bands of the sixties, with their emphasis on melodies and harmonies, form the ground out of which Velvet Crush have developed, and I come out of that same ground. Velvet Crush are part of an extensive underground which carries on the pop tradition of the bands mentioned above, and much of my young adulthood was largely focused, musically, in listening to the bands belonging loosely to this underground. I am genuinely at a loss as to why more people don't listen to them: they seem to me to be an ideal pop band, the very definition, really (there: I can't resist wanting to define them even when I try not to). I've emphasized certain aspects of their sound, their iconography, their scene, but I could have easily picked altogether different aspects to focus on. Another listener of their music will likely find my descriptions to be misleading, even false. A listener comes to a band like Velvet Crush in his or her own way. It used to be, when I wanted someone to listen to an album, I would want them to listen to it in just the way I did: closely, paying attention to the lyrics, fully immersed in the world of the song. But I've learned that it doesn't work that way. People have to discover their own path towards any kind of music. How often has it happened that we discover a musician (or an author, artist, etc.) for ourselves only to see references to this person almost everywhere we look, whereas before they were completely unknown to us? How much else is hidden in plain sight before us? It's ours to discover. And so, another reason why I ultimately don't want to "define" Velvet Crush is that I don't think it would do any good. Instead, I want to suggest associations and possibilities that might encourage you to discover some of these paths for yourself.
1 My title may cause confusion; Blissed-Out Fatalists is the name of a band from the 80s that few people know about. If anyone has come to this article hoping to read about Blissed-Out Fatalists, the band: sorry! It's just that the name perfectly captured for me something about Velvet Crush that I wanted to communicate.
2 There are others, of course. The Hollies come to mind, and Gram Parson's solo work, as well as much of the material collected in Nuggets. You will likely find your own associations as you listen to their music.
3 It was with some surprise a couple of years ago that I watched That 70s Show for the first time and discovered that the theme song is "In the Street" from Big Star's #1 Record (performed by Cheap Trick). I've watched the show a few times since and have heard Big Star's recording of "I'm in Love With a Girl" on the soundtrack a couple of times. Of course, the fact that Big Star were utterly obscure in the actual 70s suggests some kind of wish fulfillment at best. Similarly, when I used to live in Chicago and would listen to WXRT's Saturday Morning Flashback (where the music of a particular year was featured) I would always think "That song was never played on the radio!" The playlist represented an idealized one based on hindsight. Thus does memory falsify history.
4 For example, Apples in Stereo, Elf Power, Essex Green, etc.
