Matthew Sweet
In Reverse (Volcano)
by Marc Hirsh
Matthew Sweet
In Reverse (Volcano)
by Marc Hirsh
originally published in Space City Rock, Fall 2000
Almost like clockwork throughout the '90s, Matthew Sweet has released a new album every two years. With the arrival of 1999's In Reverse (which was a little late but still hit the mark), I'm forced once again to rethink my previously iron-clad beliefs on what makes a great Sweet record (keep in mind that I said "great," not "good"; the guy's constitutionally incapable of making a bad album). In the interest of finally formulating some sort of Grand Unified Matthew Sweet Theory (in which I'm disregarding 1994's Son Of Altered Beast because it's only an EP and... um... well, I just am), I have considered the following:
Postulate #1: Concept albums rule. Analysis: Probably not. Despite a few threads holding each of his albums together (some more than others), the closest Sweet has come to an honest-to-God concept album was Altered Beast, with most of the songs in some way about personal transformation (come to think of it, that's a recurring theme throughout his career; this is a guy who treats "Superdeformed" as his de facto theme song). In Reverse has all the earmarks of a concept album, what with its upside-down graphics, songs that bleed into each other pauselessly and a booklet that takes the title literally. The songs, though, don't really bear this out; sure, a few cuts seem to unravel and there are a few echoes of topsy-turvydom and loss, but there's no particular lyrical theme or unity to the proceedings; you could mix & match these songs with cuts from, say, 100% Fun and the album still holds.
Postulate #2: New producer = better album. Analysis: Inconclusive. Most of Sweet's better albums jettison the knob-twiddler of the previous one. 1997's Blue Sky On Mars, Sweet's least great album of the '90s, was his second collaboration with Brendan O'Brien, the first of which resulted in 1995's nifty 100% Fun. On the other hand, Fred Maher, one of In Reverse's several producers, was responsible for the spectacular Girlfriend, which was even then his second time behind the boards. In Reverse sounds great, with a strange (but intriguing) ping-ponging between high and trebly guitar raveups (like the disturbing "Split Personality," wherein he declares "It's time I get a piece of your mind" as though he's just clawed his way out of his "Superdeformed" cage, and "What Matters," which seems to have had the entire bottom end filtered out) to massive Spectorian pop operas such as "Worse To Live," which coasts on the mantra "If it's worse to live than to let go/You've got to let me know" as the inevitable Abbey Road harmonies slowly drown everything else. The result is a series of dynamic shifts that keeps things from humming along at a static level for the duration.
Postulate #3: Album length is inversely proportional to album quality. Analysis: Promising, with one exception. Although Girlfriend is widely regarded as his best work, I've always considered the slightly briefer Beast the better album, if only because the few lesser songs are all clumped towards the end (rather than distributed throughout), generating a longer sustained buzz. Otherwise, this holds, with In Reverse falling just below Girlfriend in the canon. It's certainly better than the pleasant but insubstantial (and shorter) Blue Sky, though it's infinitely harder to hum. Stretching out befits the guy, an oddity in pop music. Corollary: Interestingly, the above may hold promise for individual songs. The two best songs on Girlfriend, "Divine Intervention" and "You Don't Love Me," run over 5 minutes, and the length of the average song diminishes on each successive album in astonishing parallel with the album's quality. This means that In Reverse's closer, the nearly 10-minute "Thunderstorm" (which sounds like Neutral Milk Hotel tearing through "A Quick One While He's Away"), should be his best song ever. It's not, but it's pretty damn great nonetheless.
Postulate #4: Nothing beats the '60s. Analysis: God, I hope not. Sweet's main obsessions (the Beatles & Neil Young) still pop up in tandem with groovy-man touches like harpsichords, and there's a new focus on some more obscure Mod sources here (dig the buzzing, Creation-like "Faith In You"). And I'll grant you that the result's more diverting than his more recent forays into alt-rock and grunge-lite (which I'll blame on O'Brien and call it a day). But I don't know if this is really something that I want to encourage, so I'll move on.
Postulate #5: Guitar heroes save the day. Analysis: Close, very close. Part of the fun of Sweet's work has always been hearing folks like Richard Lloyd and Robert Quine tear their way through unabashed pop songs and temper the cloyingness with which Sweet flirts (but never quite gets it on with). That's another reason Blue Sky was a bit of a bummer: Sweet opted to do it all himself rather than farm the solos out. In Reverse doesn't resurrect Lloyd or Quine, but new guy Pete Phillips gives it all he's got, and if he doesn't quite stun or surprise, he gets the attitude down. Give this guy another album and he just might live up to the big shoes he's trying to fill.
Postulate #6: Sweet has a direct link into my internal state and can only reflect the way my life is headed. Analysis: Bullseye. For the past decade, each of Sweet's albums has effectively acted as a signpost for my inner psychology. When I entered the new, exciting and occasionally scary world of college, the new, exciting and occasionally scary Girlfriend was there; two years later, the driven but wary and antipathetic Altered Beast came along as I'd settled in and started figuring out who I am and what I'm capable of. The zippy and almost totally ballad-free 100% Fun appeared just as I briefly had pretty much everything I needed out of life, but it couldn't last; I was floundering and stateless just in time for Sweet to disgorge Blue Sky, both of us content to tread water and mark time. And now I'm at a point where I haven't reached any major epiphanies yet, but I'm confident that I'll get wherever it is that I'm going, and I'm comfortable with the road ahead, long and bumpy though it may be. And at precisely this moment comes In Reverse, which is relaxed but not complacent and forward-looking but not presumptive. I should count myself lucky that Matthew Sweet can articulate the moments of my life in a batch of perfect pop songs without me having to do much more than drive to the record store. But maybe I'll watch my back in the parking lot.