The New Pornographers
Mass Romantic (Mint)
by Marc Hirsh
The New Pornographers
Mass Romantic (Mint)
by Marc Hirsh
originally published in Space City Rock, Fall 2002
Mass Romantic reminds me, for superficial and spurious reasons, of New Zealand's Headless Chickens. The latter isn't a particularly good band, churning out a pop/industrial hybrid with lyrics that often aim for mild shock and would probably fail even if they weren't so stupid. But for a time during the mid-'90s, they had a secret weapon in Fiona MacDonald, who was usually relegated to random keyboard duties but occasionally stepped in front of the microphone and totally eradicated the rest of the band's many shortcomings. She was a great pop singer in a band that didn't deserve her and certainly didn't know what to do with her.
That's what I think of when I listen to Mass Romantic, which is absolutely unfair to the New Pornographers, who seem quite capable of creating majesterial pop music even when Neko Case is sitting it out. Somewhat akin to a Canadian Apples In Stereo or what Wilco would sound like if they traded in the American Gothic resignation for sheer ebullience, the New Pornographers come up with the goods, from the ecstatic choruses of "Mystery Hours" and "The Body Says No" (both of which are like Brian Wilson with ideas exploding in his head faster than his mouth or hands can make happen) to the primary hooks for a great many of the songs that are no less effective for the fact each seems to be little more than a single chord played at a catchy rhythm.
And none of that is easy to spot, due to the simple fact of the title track that kicks off the album. As sung by Case in a perfect twang-less country timbre akin to a cross between Kirsty MacColl and Christina Amphlett, it's an energetic power pop song about streetlights and music on the radio (or something) that is so focused and confident in its ability to tingle every nerve ending in your head that it sounds like the only important thing in the world when it's playing. It's such a spectacular start to the album that the first time listened to it, I sat impatiently through the next four songs waiting for Case to give up her background slot (she's audible in the mix, which in a way drove me crazier) and grab the spotlight again. Once she bounded back to center stage in "Letter From An Occupant," my nerves calmed and I breathed a sigh of relief.
Again, totally unfair to the band. Once I accepted that there was a reason this wasn't a Neko Case solo album, I relistened (and relistened (and relistened)) and caught on to the fact that the boys have their charms, too. More important, from the crunk crunk crunk of the guitars (second verse) in "The Fake Headlines" to the all-buzz-and-reverb "The Mystery Hours" (noone must have told them that those are supposed to be mutually exclusive) to the sweeping soundscape of "To Wild Homes," they retain a solid identity regardless of whether Case is in the back, contributing to the effervescent cross-gender harmonies, or front and center, doing her damnedest to steal attention. I guess that makes her more of a Grace Slick to their Jefferson Airplane, if you must. In any event, I keep coming back to "Mass Romantic" and "Letter From An Occupant" more often than any of the others. There's no reason why the boys should hand the entire project to her, but should the lady wish to sing a few more next time, fellas, I heartily recommend letting her.