UNCUT magazine once printed their 10 Saddest Albums Of All Time, giving the coveted #1 spot to JOHN CALE’S desolate “Music For A New Society.”
Of course, any such poll only amounts to personal choice at the end of the day, so it’s always up to the readers to assimilate, research and decide for themselves. But, for what it’s worth, this writer would personally choose another from their Top 10 shortlist as his “Saddest LP of all time.”
The record in question is San Francisco’s RED HOUSE PAINTERS’ second album, the cunningly titled “Red House Painters”. Just to confuse the issue further, their third LP is also self-titled, but that’s the one with the overgrown bridge on the front and the one with their cover of PAUL SIMON’S “I Am A Rock.” This is the one you really need, though – yes you do! – The one with the sepia tinted photo of the decaying rollercoaster towering above you.
Thing is, while some of UNCUT’S other Top 10 contenders – BIG STAR’S “Third”; NIRVANA’S “In Utero” and LOU REED’S “Berlin” – are undoubtedly very dark nights of the soul, there’s at least some small hint of sunshine beyond the clouds with them. Sure, ”Third” has “Holocaust”, but it’s also got the adrenaline fizz of “Kizza Me” and beauties like “For You” and “Stroke It, Noel”; “In Utero” is lightened by ”Dumb” and “All Apologies” (well, relatively) and while I grant you “Berlin” is virtually impossible to sit through post- “Oh Jim”, at least the likes of “Caroline Says #1” and “How Does It Feel” do feature stirring arrangements.
At 75 nerve-shredding minutes in length, though, there’s precious little respite or crumbs of comfort to be swept up with the second RED HOUSE PAINTERS LP. Even given the fact that their debut, “Down Colourful Hill” from Autumn 1992 depicted a funeral bed in a darkened room on its’ cover didn’t really prepare you for the grim delights within, but it’s this follow up that’s still their finest (and saddest) hour and a quarter to date.
The album’s 14 songs fall broadly into two categories: folksy acoustic strummers with leader MARK KOZELEK’S unyieldingly bleak lyrics to the fore, or lengthy full band slo-mo workouts with the tracks reaching almost unbearably ominous crescendos. You’d be pushed to say the RED HOUSE PAINTERS play rock as such. The majority of the rhythms are so crushingly sluggish, they add a whole new dimension to the term “funereal.”
Bearing that in mind, though, nearly everything here is totally fantastic. The quartet are at their best when wrapping GORDON MACK’S spooky guitar arpeggios and their slow-fever rhythms around tracks like ”Dragonflies” and “Rollercoaster”. Kozelek, meanwhile, wrings every possible drop of shattered emotion from his looming ache of a voice. Admittedly, KOZELEK has tough competition from blasted contemporaries like BILL CALLAHAN and WILL OLDHAM, but even Callahan’s revelling in the uselessness of humanity can’t quite challenge the sound of a man as obsessively broken and miserable as KOZELEK plainly is (there’s no sham angst here) throughout this album.
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Actually, the single-mindedness required to wallow in this unceasing misery occasionally shakes the band into incredible violence as the tension takes over. For instance, the way they can revel in something so resolutely stillborn as “Mother” (possibly even slower then TINDERSTICKS’ “Sleepy Song” if you can imagine that) or in the way they can ride out the scuzzy ritual rock (easy, tiger!) of “Strawberry Hill”; or – best of all – “Funhouse” where they take one of the most haunting tunes you’ve ever heard and (over almost ten minutes of bleeding pain) heap on a desperate climax. For once, Mack and the rhythm section let loose a terrible wrath. Judging by this folk-metal catharsis, it’s not hard to see why KOZELEK’S recent “What’s Next To The Moon” collection of AC/DC covers in slo-mo works so well.
The down-home acoustic spots would offer a little sonic balm, but here KOZELEK bares his already blasted soul even more openly. “Down Through”, “Take Me Out” and “New Jersey” all feature pretty, fingerpicked figures, but when the lyrics kick in – egs: “when your car crashed, did your ghost find peace?” (“Take Me Out”) or “bruised internally, eternally” (“Mistress”) – there’s no place of refuge anywhere, The grief in “Katy Song” just hangs tangible in the air. I mean, how do you comfort someone who’s singing: “glass on the pavement under my shoe, without you is what my life amounts to”?
Just to wrong foot you, ”Red House Painters”kicks off with the sprightly ”Grace Cathedral Park” (oh come on, give me some leeway!) and ends – like NICK DRAKE’S stark masterpiece ”Pink Moon” – with a gentle, vaguely hopeful coda in the brief ”Brown Eyes.” The sunburst when the whole band kicks in for the final 40 seconds or so is really quite lovely.
Nonetheless, even the likes of ”Pink Moon” are a frolic in the park when compared with the towering, unstinting loss and longing of ”Red House Painters.” KOZELEK appears to have brightened (a little) since, with a warmer acoustic feel snuggling into (some) of his muse in the intervening years. Considering the fragility and abject despair of this material, it’s heartening to find he’s still around.
So there you have it. For what it’s worth, this writer’s Saddest LP Of All Time, yet still one – with certain reservations – he feels you must add to your collections. If you’re ready to be heartbroken, then step this way, please.
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