“Prithee, my dear, why are we here?”
I know this is a really important album, if only because it’s the most accessible by one of the handful of influential bands in the eighties—the one that pretty much gave Kurt Cobain a list of things to rip off (who gave half the other rock bands in the nineties a list of things to rip off)—but I don’t have much to say about that.
I do love it, though. Black Francis lends it a certain ridiculous rawness, but it’s mainly a classic album because he melded that aforementioned ridiculousness with his undeniable pop savvy. Most of the songs take sugary sweet melodies and toss in some grit. Honestly, “Wave of Mutilation” is as hummable as “Hey, Jude,” just slightly more subversive in subject matter. There’s a lot that makes this album “important” (there’s that word again), but mostly, I appreciate it because it’s one of the more consistently enjoyable sets of songs you can find.
Last modified on Sunday, December 5, 2021.