When I first checked out Clem Snide, it was on the recommendations of a gig flier from a favorite, underrecorded Boston band, the Pee Wee Fist. Fist leader Pete Fitzpatrick had a longtime friendship with the band-- he's now their full-time guitarist-- and listening to their debut, You Were a Diamond, it was easy to hear the similarities. Stylistically, both bands remained just outside any standard indie rock and alt-country conventions. Their leaders wrote and sung with deep but matter-of-fact expressiveness, cut with clever wordplay and imagery and just enough humor. And there was the use of non-rock instruments to make their sound more intriguing: in Clem Snide it was Jason Glasser on cello, whose playing here-- which can sound whisperingly soft, sandpaper rough or decorously smooth-- is a striking complement to Eef Barzelay's raspy, harsh singing.
You Were a Diamond-- just reissued by spinART, with two bonus tracks-- is starker and coarser than anything else the band has done, with less of the irony and pop culture references that Barzelay now employs in his writing. Their songs also have darker, almost folky arrangements that are effectively atmospheric. At times, the album's as sad as watching an old woman drive alone to a cemetery. Barzelay emotes himself hoarse on "Uglier Than You", one of his most harrowing songs; and on "Row", he aches his way through the lyrics as Glasser and guest saw player Sue Weston bend and whisper as cooly as wind through a pile of leaves. Here, the band-- and Glasser in particular-- are grim colorists, playing more loosely and spontaneously than on their later, more polished records.
Other songs are hopeful, and even blissful: for example, the convincingly crooned take on Hank Williams' "Lost on the River", with Pete Fitzpatrick soloing on banjo. And just when you were sick to death of songs about driving the highways late into the night, "I Can't Stay Here Tonight" captures the mood perfectly, with Barzelay's weary vocals nicely balanced by the light use of bells between the verses. But best of all is "Nick Drake Tape", written around memories of listening to mixtapes and being with a troubled girlfriend. Barzelay is gifted at indulging in sentiment while cutting straight through it, and on this track, he puts a beautiful tune and some of his most vulnerable singing together with increasingly dark verses. Glasser's gently scraped bowing in the outro is a perfect close.
You Were a Diamond includes one of Clem Snide's first singles, the waltz "Your Night to Shine", and even a bonus video of the song. (The visuals aren't too exciting, but Barzelay looks just like a sullen Buddy Holly.) This song is closer to the later Snide: with the addition of a full-time drummer on their next album, the band began to make catchier and livelier music-- their latest album, The Ghost of Fashion, even has a horn section. Of the three records, Your Favorite Music may be their best, but this debut is a close second: it's a beautiful and gently melancholy album that crawls under your skin, and this is a welcome re-release.
