I first heard The Bad Plus' breakthrough major label debut, These Are the Vistas, before reading Stuart Nicholson's article in Jazz Times, which called the record "one of the most important... to appear in more than a decade." I wouldn't encounter those outlandish words until much later, after developing a bulletproof affection for the group, which no underhanded assailment of their big-league marketing histrionics and neo-fakebook verbiage could derail. At that point, I agreed wholeheartedly with Nicholson's sentiments, and consciously chose to ignore their implications.
Months earlier, These Are the Vistas had been foisted upon me by my dad, of all people, who brought it to my attention after hearing the Midwestern jazzbos' zippy rendition of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" on NPR. Never mind that the Old Man confused the album title with the bandname, and introduced The Bad Plus to me as "The Vistas, or something"; I was impressed by his ear for new music. It could have been The Mars Volta he was crushing on for all I cared-- intrepid spirit is a rare attribute among AARP cardholders. Upon giving the disc an inaugural whirl, my feelings morphed from mere family pride into Gollum-like covetousness, and I've guarded our copy ever since, much to my dad's displeasure.
Give, the band's follow-up, suffers from a paucity of original ideas. Even its best moments sound like an amateurish reiteration of These Are the Vistas' quasi-jazz anarchy. Pundits who pilloried that album for failing to situate itself decisively in either jazz or rock might actually have an argument here, as songs like "1979 Semi-Finalist" lack the slightest personality. Whereas even Vistas' most ambiguous numbers were sustained on the strength of the group's playing alone, much of Give's material comes off as unprovocative novelty. "Cheney Piñata" seeks to redefine the Cha-Cha, but falls flat on David King's galling polyrhythms and Ethan Iverson's cheeky piano melody. Similarly, "Layin' a Strip for the Higher-Self State" experiments with the New Orleans blues shuffle by removing the blues, the shuffle, and the rugged sophistication of New Orleans-style playing.
Then, of course, there are the covers, a penchant for which earned The Bad Plus ample fame on Vistas. While a good cover will merely testify to the greatness of the original, a great one will invade the memory of its elder and stamp a new identity in the listener's mind. The group's take on Nirvana's mainstream flagship was, without question, a great cover, managing to stand apart from the original as a substantive piece of art. Unfortunately, none of the covers on Give pack the same gusto. Nor, for that matter, do they even match Vistas' lesser interpretations of Blondie's "Heart of Glass" and Aphex Twin's "Flim". Here, the underspoken emotionality of the Pixies' "Velouria" is asphyxiated by Iverson's grandiose pounding and King's madcap drumming. Conversely, other songs are too consciously delicate, bypassing tasteful and heading straight for stilted. Even Give's most boisterous moments, including a key-hopping take on Black Sabbath's "Iron Man", are genteel. At times, Iverson's upper-octave twinkling sounds like The Sims' theme music.
Other treasured aspects of These Are the Vistas have either been mishandled this time out by Tchad Blake's close-to-the-vest production, or are just missing altogether. On a rendition of Ornette Coleman's "Street Woman", Reid Anderson hypnotically recreates token phrases from his spectacular solo on Vistas' "Keep the Bugs Off Your Glass and the Bears Off Your Ass", only here, he shares the spotlight with an overzealous King. And unlike on Vistas, the original compositions on Give feel limp and underdeveloped, as if rushed to meet a record company deadline.
One of the more commonly lodged complaints about Vistas was simply that it was so vehemently and lucratively backed by a major label. But those of us who managed to get past the superficial reasons to dislike The Bad Plus, and deigned to try something from Columbia, were doubtless glad we did. Unfortunately, Give only serves to validate the band's senseless gadflies. If a requirement for having an album attain "essential" status, in any genre, is proving that it wasn't a happy accident, The Bad Plus have put These Are the Vistas at a serious disadvantage.
