During my high school days of the early '80s, I attempted to get caught up on as much as "important" music as I could: Trout Mask Replica, every Velvet Underground release, Patti Smith, as well as any new Birthday Party or Gun Club album. Pere Ubu's name was one that was always discussed in reverent tones. WDVE had even run an ad for a show they were doing at the downtown club Heaven, somewhere around 1981 (ironic, considering the band was at that point at their weirdest and the station wouldn't touch them with a ten-foot pole). It helped me figure out how to pronounce their name and think they must be on the level if WDVE would give them the time of day. A friend of my brother's once gave me a ride after a show and Ubu was playing on his tape deck. I remember thinking it rocked like a cool punk band should, but it had some noise going on, which made it cooler.
Sometime later, I picked up a copy of Pere Ubu's first album, The Modern Dance. "Sentimental Journey" had come into my world at some point, courtesy of CMU's radio station WRCT. That one really blew my head open. The sound of breaking glass, mumbling, a bleating horn, all of it leading up to a crashing crescendo from the band. Then it did it again. Twice. It could have been free jazz or it could have been weird punk rockers. Regardless, I knew I was in for something wild.
But I wasn't too sure about it once it put it on the turntable. I didn't dislike it but nothing really grabbed me. David Thomas' staccato delivery of "Out in the real world/ in real time," felt too clever. The dual off-key horns in "Laughing" didn't justify the payoff for the singing. If there was rock and roll guitar at the start of "Non-Alignment Pact," I wasn't feeling it.
So I did what every thoughtful music listener should do. I played it again. And another time. And once more. I probably reread the entry in the Trouser Press Record Guide to gain a little more insight too. There was also a one-star dismissal of the album's follow-up Dub Housing in the first edition of The Rolling Stone Record Guide that said something long-winded to the effect of "art rock that's no less pretentious due to its connection to Johnny Rotten." Dave Marsh wrote it, if memory serves and my distrust of mainstream rock criticism was beginning.
Eventually the things that made The Modern Dance unique - things which I was hearing in this way for the first time, without a noticeable reference for them - started coming out. I came to like "Real World." "Street Waves" had a drive to it that got lifted off the ground when Tom Herman took a guitar solo. A year or two later, someone described Herman's high-pitched slide solo in the title track, as a sound that makes you wonder if your stylus is dying or if it's hitting a part of the record that's simply worn down. In other words, it's an unworldly sound that becomes musical in Herman's hands.
Additionally, "Chinese Radiation" had a strange drama to it, when the piano came in, after a weird mélange of crowd cheers joined the band who seemed to finally be kicking into a song (they weren't). Thomas screamed like someone who was being carried off. Or the whole thing seemed like a flashback sequence in a movie that was fading back to a lone Thomas, singing over those singer-songwriter piano chords. (The same sort of weird poignancy shows up on "Goodbye" on their third album, New Picnic Time.)
Pere Ubu is a band that challenges listeners because they challenged themselves. They aren't a band that you can get in one spin, which brings up a greater point: GOOD MUSIC CAN'T ALWAYS BE GRASPED BEFORE YOU GET THROUGH THE SECOND VERSE (if it consists of things like verses and choruses). As I've played records people over time, they've reacted by saying, "Oh they're trying to sound like _______," or "they just want to be _______," before the song is over. Or they talk through the rest of the song, not really giving it a chance. When asked what they through, they shrug.
That is not to say the music MUST be heard the first time in complete silence, with undivided attention. I'm just saying that it needs to explored, sometimes multiple times. Pere Ubu did that for me. As did Brian Eno, when I first heard Another Green World, a story I feel I've told umpteen times, but it bears repeating (and my family might be the only ones who recall hearing it ad nauseum). In a weird twist, I didn't buy Dub Housing until a few years ago. I know people that think it's a better album than The Modern Dance. I do love "Blow Daddy-O," with its free drumming and keyboard drone, but the rest of it hasn't totally sold me yet. It must be time for another spin.
A few days before I heard that Ubu vocalist David Thomas had passed away, I was driving in the car and put on Ubu's early single "Final Solution. I firmly believe it's one of the greatest songs ever. I realize the title originated during a particularly dark period of history but the song itself was inspired by Eddie Cochran's "Summertime Blues" and is built on a different kind of young angst, the likes of which were probably pretty prevalent during that time in Cleveland, Ohio.
As the song built to a climax, fueled once again by Tom Herman's rabid guitar, I got lost in the power of it. It lifted me up and made me want to scream along with Thomas.
As soon as it was over, I had a thought that has lingered in my head since then: Sometimes I forget that it's just a song.
So I played it again.
Thank you, David. I hope you've been reunited with your old bandmate Peter Laughner.
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