Vicious Pastimes

 

House of Harm

Vicious Pastimes

(Avant! Records)

 

This write-up is late.  Vicious Pastimes, the debut LP from Boston trio House of Harm was released back in early September.  Unfortunately, as mentioned in my previous post (Lonely is an Eyesore), I have not been listening to much music recently.  However, this fine album has been the main attraction, as it has been essentially the only album I’ve listened to over the past month or so.  The energetic and urgent romanticism of these songs is so life affirming and exciting that it is incredibly addictive and has been important in keeping me going during the depths of this pandemic.

 There is something undeniably retro about this album, yet because of the group’s incredibly strong songwriting it is not a hindrance.  The main thing that makes it feel retro to me is the super 80s sound of the drum machine.  It’s funny, because the drum sounds on songs recorded during the 80s are often what makes them sound dated and not as timeless as they should be, but here on this modern recording it doesn’t bother me and just makes me want to get up and dance.  It doesn’t hurt that every song on this record could (or should be) a single.  The kind that would’ve (or should’ve) been club hits back in the 80s.

Vicious Pastimes opens with the insanely catchy “Isolator,” which sets the stage for what is about to come.  The Peter Hook-ish bass-line propels this mid-tempo song, while the bright keyboards sparkle and chime leading me to play my first air keyboards in years!  Listening brings to mind visions of a dark smoky club – the stage back lit, so that all we can see are silhouettes of the band on stage and the tops of the bouncing/dancing oblique hair-styled heads of the audience.  I can smell cloves.  And is that a saxophone at the end?  “Coming of Age” is even more of all of this.  Michael Rocheford’s pleading vocals match perfectly to the spacious keyboard washes of each verse as the build into the fantastic sing along chorus.  The title track is similarly incredible with its driving beat, huge chorus, and persistent passion. 

The repetitive circular guitar rhythm sets up “Behind You,” which takes the intensity up a notch, driving the ear worm ever deeper into your psyche.  The urgency ramps up after “The Sun Always Shines on TV” (A-Ha) – like keyboard wash that breaks in like a majestic sunrise, before racing to its conclusion.  “Against the Night” is likely the most postpunk style song on the album.  The song sounds angrier with its howling guitar screams and off-kilter noise and a propulsive drum beat that stutters to an uncertain finish.  Another of the darker toned songs is the excellent “Waste of Time,” which is still insanely catchy with its broken bassline and a killer instrumental chorus with absolutely lovely layered guitars.

House of Harm "Catch"

The first song I ever heard from these guys was 2019s single “Catch.”  This windswept single lands in the middle of the LP like a breath of fresh air.  It is so spacious and sinfully catchy it’s really a shame that I haven’t grown sick of hearing it all over the damn place, as it deserves to be.  This is the kind of pop perfection that the Cure used to capture with singles like “In-Between Days” and “Just like Heaven.”  The only mistake the band made for their outdoor, near the water, video, is that they weren’t perched atop a giant cliff overlooking the churning ocean.  Speaking of incredible singles, “Always” has that big sound that begs to have movies written in order to incorporate its heart-wrenching romance.  

House Of Harm "Always"

The album closes, but does not let up, with the keyboard heavy “Control.”  The song energizes like a second wind.  Just when you were getting tired from so much dancing around (I sure miss live music), this one brings you back around and leaves you wanting more.  If I haven’t made it clear, this is one spectacular album that should be a blockbuster worldwide.

 

(https://houseofharm.bandcamp.com/)

 

 

 

 

Lonely is an Eyesore

 

Remember the band Danny Wilson?  They were around during the late 80s and a true one hit wonder.  Danny Wilson was not a person.  It was the name of the band.  I remember that much.  I kind of remembered their one minor hit, “Mary’s Prayer.”  It was the only song of theirs that I ever consciously knew.  For some reason, one that I do not understand, I’ve been thinking about that song lately.  Sometime last week, I dialed up YouTube and looked up that music video.  I couldn’t remember ever having seen it before, but it has been 33 years since it was in my consciousness.  It had been so long that the song hadn’t found its way into my head, because I honestly couldn’t quite remember how it went.  It was simply inexplicably in my thoughts as a thing.  It turns out that it’s a pretty good song, which is surprising since I so often can’t seem to prevent songs that I do not like from repeating in my head for weeks on end (this means you Cher and your “If I could Turn Back Time” and “Believe,” Live and your “Lightning Crashes,” and your horrific “Lovin’ Every Minute of it” by Loverboy, among many others).  After watching the video, which is very fashion conscious, I crawled into the rabbit hole and watched several videos from Swing Out Sister and Alphabet City era ABC, during that period during the late 80s when the UK was pumping out endless streams of lite jazz/pop hybrid artists that were later coined as sophisti-pop.  They emerged from the shadows of the Style council, Spandau Ballet, Sade and eventually morphed into forgettable things like Curiosity Killed the Cat and Johnny Hates Jazz.  Luckily my journey morphed as well.  I stopped with ABC and veered toward the 80s Liverpool bands I loved so much back then.  As a long awaited rain fell down outside, I got chills listening to old Julian Cope, Echo and the Bunnymen, and the Wild Swans.

 

I ended up listening to all of Bringing Home the Ashes, the long awaited debut album from the Wild Swans, which was easily my favorite album of 1988, and really one of my favorites of all time.  The stunning guitar work from Jeremy Kelly is absolutely immaculate.  His clearly plucked dreamy melodies and solos are the kind that my ears still seek from music to this day.  The album is also layered with a disconcerting background howl, like the sound of a distant warning horn calling out through a dense fog or smoke.  These wonderful guitar sounds blend perfectly with band leader Paul Simpson’s romantic and poetic lyrics, which are dripping with powerful imagery, heartbreaking snapshots of life amongst the downtrodden, and yet they’re filled with optimism for a better future.  The Wild Swans created a cohesive LP that begs to be heard from start to finish and, at least in my case, listened to over and over again, as I have continued to do. 

This album captured my ears at a time when my passion for music was growing exponentially by the week, and was a massive part in setting the stage for music as my go to companion for all occasions, especially those dark, inconsolable moments of heartache and heartbreak when it is most difficult to reach out.  Music is more reliable and present than any friend or family member ever could be, but, as I’ve learned this year, it cannot replace human companionship.  As this pandemic has continued on for month after month, I have found that not even music has been able to fully lift me up above the oppressive current of bleakness that keeps washing over all of us.  Isolation is hard enough to take, especially while still fully aware of the barrage of bad news happening to the planet, to people in our communities, people afar, and to those close to us – all while feeling absolutely helpless.

 

Listening to these songs from so long ago brought back a memory I haven’t considered since they were still fairly new.  Sometime during my high school years, I began to post excerpts of song lyrics from many of the songs that were impacting me at that time.  Making mix tapes for people, DJing School dances, babbling endlessly about music, and wearing concert t-shirts nearly every day, apparently, was not enough.  It was simple, I would take a blank sheet of paper and write out the lyric quote with blue and/or black Bic pens and attribute the words to the band, and at the start of the school day I would tape a sheet to the outside of my locker.  It didn’t happen every day, I do not remember what year it began, or how long I continued to do this.  The Wild Swans were well represented, as were the Smiths, the Cure, Depeche Mode, Sonic Youth, Husker Du, the Replacements, Swans, New Model Army, the Go-Betweens, Pixies, and many others.  There was a lot of Joy Division as well – a lot of Joy Division.  I think the first one I ever posted was from Throwing Muses from their song “Fish”:

“Lonely is as lonely does

Lonely is an eyesore” 

There was no particular reason for these sheets, other than possibly a lame advertisement attempting to get my classmates curious about the sources of these cryptic words.  I think what kept me doing it is that no one really ever said anything about them.  One time, after a Morrissey quote had been set in place, Mrs. Boyden, the advanced level math and French teacher told me that she thought the words were too whiney.  Fair enough.  I’m pretty sure I replied with a chuckle and a “Yah!”  Otherwise, it was radio silence.  Often times, the posting would disappear sometime during the school day, or get damaged – torn, shredded, and stomped on, as if it (or I) rubbed someone the wrong way.  I was never alerted as to why in either case.  Again, no one ever approached me to find out what the hell I was doing.  The silence only encouraged me to continue mildly bemused, until I eventually got bored and the whole thing petered out.

Hearing those old tunes may have been an unconscious attempt to rekindle that love and passion for music (cue “If I Could Turn Back Time”) that has been dwindling rapidly from my life.  Starting from scratch.  It has helped a little.  I’ve actually turned my stereo on a few times since to listen to an album or three since that rainy afternoon last week, after going several weeks without doing so.  It’s fascinating to consider the massive fire that ignited in me back then which has burned relentlessly all of these years.  Music has taken me on many adventures, down many different roads, and has exposed me to so much. Many of my friendships have been earned through a shared passion for music.  I have learned more than I could have ever imagined.  It has expanded my very small world.  It’s difficult for me to imagine all of that in tatters like one of those lyric posters that I used to find scattered across the floor of the high school hallway near my locker.  To be honest, I don’t have a plan B.  I know a lot of us are struggling dealing with this pandemic.  Personally, I went in already really depressed.  I'm used to crawling out of the darkness through music.  Without the electric infusion I’ve always received from the music I love, I do not know how to face life.

Hope

 

“Hope is a word that you say any day

It’s a dream and it screams in your head”

The House of Love’s Guy Chadwick croons this chorus so majestically from his band’s brilliant 1988 debut album.  This song was on repeat in my mind a lot back then.  I used to sing along, thinking that he was saying “everyday” – not “any day.”  Not that it makes a huge difference.  I have always said the word hope all the freaking time.  In 1988, though my 17 year old self may have denied it then, I had actual genuine hope.  Things weren’t great.  I was battling a lot of self-doubt, loneliness, depression and sleeplessness, but I had goals and dreams and a desire that all of these things would turn around.  There was a future.  Apparently, I did not pay enough to the conclusion of the song:

“It’s a lie on a seat of a night

When you’re bawling like a baby, so alone

Like a baby

It’s not right”

It feels true.  Hope is a liar, a charlatan, and a temptation beckoning us to keep going despite overwhelming evidence of futility and failure.  Hope creates dreams, desires, and expectations that eventually lead to disappointment.

Don’t get me wrong, I still have hope.  It’s alarming how often I say the word: “I hope you have a great weekend!”  “I hope you’re feeling well!”  “I hope you have a nice evening!”  “I hope you get well quick!”  You get the idea.  I do hope these things for the people I say them to.  I want people to thrive, be joyful, content, fulfilled, healthy, excited, and successful in whatever measure they choose.  I’d like those things for myself as well!  It’s the hope part that crushes me.  I have not figured out how to wish for these types of things without feeling completely empty for not achieving them.  

I’ve heard wise people say that life is about the journey – the search for fulfillment, etc. not so much about the achievement.    It makes total sense.  I can logically see and understand that, yet when I look back on my life, it feels like the journey has been about setbacks and frustration.  This is why I blame hope.  Every time I get one of those notions that fill me with daydreams of what could be, I get so thrilled by the idea that I have a difficult time living in the moment.  Once those grand visions start to pass, and reality sets in, my life, as it is, feels that much more distasteful.  I would rather not go through the disappointment, but I have not figured out how to twist that hope faucet tight enough to stop the drip.  If I didn’t have hope, then my stupid mind wouldn’t generate expectations, and theoretically I’d never be disappointed.  Perhaps I would find a clearer route to appreciating what I do have.

 

In 1990 Bad Religion released the song “The Positive Aspect of Negative Thinking,” (from Against the Grain) the title of which has become a mantra for me.  This under a minute shredder surgically cuts our cultural egos down to size and expresses utter disgust at everything that has grown too big for its britches.  Yet, it is optimistic and insightful for recognizing what’s wrong.  For one could say that theoretically we cannot correct our mistakes until we recognize them.  On a personal level, I love this notion, because it fits my dream of no expectations, no illusions, no disappointments and occasional pleasant surprises.  And yes, I am fully aware that I am writing about hoping for no hope.  It’s not lost on me.  This is simply a long winded way of saying that I am exhausted, like so many, from spending most of my time doing things I do not want to do and feeling like my entire life has been wasted.  Tired of having a broken heart full of sadness for not ever achieving any of my high end goals due to an ugly cocktail of laziness, poor decision making, bad timing, lack of ability, and uncooperative health issues.  Perhaps if I had never had dreams, I would not be so lost now.