"I'd let Godzilla step on my headAnd I'd let a mummy chase me around and throw me in a dungeonI'd let space aliens perform an autopsy on meIf I could just be near to you
I'd let Dracula drink my bloodI'd let a zombie eat my armI'd let a Frankenstein punch me in the stomachJust if I could be."
Man, that's devotion. Jad Fair wants to be near you so badly he'd undergo just about any hardship the universe could throw at him to make it happen. I guess the only question remaining would be this: would you want Jad Fair to be that near to you? Your answer is likely to vary based on your point of view.
Words of Wisdom and Hope is one of those records that just begs questions about its intent. This is due entirely to Jad Fair's presence, as Teenage Fanclub's musical contributions can practically be viewed as a separate artistic entity from Fair's geeky rambling. Still, the questions are there: is this brilliance or ignorance? Naïveté or irony? Transcendent or annoying as hell? Once again, your answer is likely to vary based on how you view music like this.
Of course, this is nothing new where Jad Fair is concerned. Over the course of around 40 albums-- many recorded with his band Half Japanese-- Fair has constantly reveled in his own lack of conventional musical skill and consistently begged these sorts of questions. Many have come to revere him as an iconoclastically charming artist or even a sort of outsider artist, while just as many really can't stand the guy.
So here's where being a record reviewer becomes especially difficult. It's supposed to be up to me to figure out the answers to those three questions I asked earlier, and I'm finding that I really don't know any of them for sure. It does seem obvious enough that Fair is no idiot, and he must have some concept of just how hokey his delivery and words are, but it seems just as obvious that he doesn't care one way or the other. So, in lieu of a real solution, let me say this: people who already like Fair will likely enjoy this, as will people who revel in impromptu-sounding performance and unabashed sentimentalism. And just as many others will hate it outright.
To figure out which camp you're in, perhaps a bit of dry objective description will help. Fair's delivery on this album's twelve tracks is entirely spoken, mostly in a dry, subdued Mr. Rogers tone, though he occasionally offers a little coo or tiger growl to drive home how in love he is with his anonymous subject. He never gets melodic, he only rarely tailors his rhythm to the music, and he frequently sounds like he's having a one-sided conversation with a soundtrack in the background.
The subjective description: Fair's straightforwardness is occasionally refreshing, and many of his quirky observations are quite charming, but more often they're irritating and cloyingly cute. Whether or not he's being ironic or naïve ceases to become important after a while, because most listeners will be utterly sick of listening to him by the time the album is halfway over.
"Early in the morning. No chance of robot uprising. Look what the sunshine brings. It's a brand new day." --"I Feel Fine"
"My heart is literally jumping like a kangaroo. I mean, not literally, but poetically. I mean... well, you know what I mean." --"The Power of Your Tenderness"
"I want to be your Superman. I would not be satisfied being your Batman or your Aquaman. No. I want the very best." --"Cupid"
These are three of Fair's more amusing observations, though even the funniest moments in his monologues are probably best described by one of his past album titles: somewhat humorous. Often, he finds himself talking with nothing to say, but he invariably keeps talking anyway. The pun on the title "You Rock" of "you came along when I had nothing and gave me a rock" gets hard to swallow after he's already said it a couple of times, especially when he follows it by mumbling "rock solid love."
On the other side of the coin is Teenage Fanclub, fresh off the U.S. release of their sixth album, Howdy! The band offers up a batch of instrumentals for Fair to talk over that draws from every one of their past periods, from the fuzzy rock of their earliest records, to the country flavors of Songs from Northern Britain. The highlight for both the band and Fair is probably "Near to You," for which the band offers up an alternately jangly and fuzzy stomp that propels Fair's rambling perfectly.
Nearly as successful is "Love's Taken Over," wherein Fair actually almost sings (without ever actually getting there) and the band's blend of uplifting harmonies, bells and delayed snare drums proves one of the most interesting textures they've ever come up with. The album's other major musical peak comes with the seven-minute "Crush on You." Though the song is undoubtedly far too long, the band offers up a spontaneous-sounding jam that somewhat makes up for it. Opener "Behold the Miracle" is also brimming with fine organ work and an excellent bassline.
Elsewhere, the band doesn't seem to have as many ideas. As a result, "The Power of Your Tenderness" is overly repetitive, while "Vampire's Claw" benefits from some pretty banjo and fiddle, but ultimately doesn't go much of anywhere musically. "Secret Heart" attempts funk, but never gets propulsive enough to truly achieve it.
Okay, so if I've done my job, you now have at least some idea of what to expect from this album. In the end, I think a straight five is the only rating that's really appropriate for a release like this. Chances are that when you hear it, you'll either fall in love or hate it. As for me, I don't think I'll be listening to it again for a long time. Rather, it's the kind of record I'll be filing away and pulling out now and then when I feel like springing something truly odd on my unsuspecting friends. The nutshell: proceed with caution.
