There are some albums that you just can't wait for. And you wait, and you wait, and you wait... and suddenly, it's in your hands. And you think, "Shit! Come Pick Me Up is just about to be released? It's already the end of July?!" This depresses me. From this day forth, I vow to no longer anticipate the future and appreciate the present. I mean, it seems only yesterday I'd just gone to my first ID show (adshamedly, I admit-- the Apples in Stereo), and I'm already 23.
I shouldn't get started talking about what a long, pointless road it is to the grave, and how, regardless of what questions we have about the future, the only certain thing is that all signs point to death. Yeah, I won't get started on that. After all, it's Friday! Since Monday, you've impatiently waited for today, and now it's finally here! (That's one week of your life you'll never get back.) So now that you've wasted the week lying in wait, savor the day. You haven't got much time left.
Ah, mortality. Remember when you first heard Superchunk? Years ago, wasn't it? Yeah, you were just a naive little punk back in those days. For some of us it was longer ago than others. Personally, my first experience with the band was Here's Where the Strings Come In. You've probably been listening to 'em since 1990, ya indie rocker. You were into them before it was cool, man! Just a little high schooler at the time, or maybe even a junior high school if you were super-hip. Brag all you want, but where in the fuck did that time go? You're old! And if you think you feel bad, imagine being in Superchunk. I mean, it's not that seem old now-- they don't, really. But I'd venture a guess that they've passed the 30 mark.
And for all their years of indie rock experience, Superchunk haven't changed their sound much since the first record. Their publishing company is called "All the Songs Sound the Same," for god's sake! It's a statement that's partially true. The songs do, upon your first listen to any of their albums, sound the same. You've gotta do a little mining to uncover Mac McCaughan's crispy pop hooks. Once you spin the record a couple of times, though, the music stands out-- subtly catchy, traditional but inventive, unforgettable.
Come Pick Me Up rubs off a little easier than 1997's Indoor Living-- a terrific pop record, but by no means the band's finest hour. They're playing it slightly lower key this time around, abandoning some of the full-on rock stuff for hummable laidback pop. Songs like the opening cut, "So Convinced," the stunning "Hello Hawk" (one of Come Pick Me Up's finest), and the sublime "Tiny Bombs" are Superchunk at their mellowy mellowest. In fact, except for the occasional instance of severe rock thunderstorms that pop up sporadically, it's a pretty gentle affair.
Sporting lovely organic production by way of Mr. Touchy (you might know him as Chicago post-rock producer Jim O'Rourke), the album contains some unexpected orchestral flourishes and rowdy mixing board-enhanced percussion. However, I'd expected more input from the sensitive little guy. I mean, for a Jim O'Rourke-produced joint, it sounds remarkably similar to the production work of past Superchunk albums.
This softer, cushiony Superchunk does make a damn fine record, though. The music is decidedly more advanced and complex than in the early days, but still retains the youthful light-heartedness that makes these guys so irresistible. And McCaughan's lovable boyish falsetto may momentarily conjure memories of your young teenage days, takin' it easy at mom and dad's, wastin' time in your bedroom, drivin' around with your newly obtained license, and listening to Foolish with not a care in the world. But don't let it get you down or anything. After all, it's Friday!
