The Vaselines

Enter the Vaselines (2009)

(3 ½ out of 4)

 

Review By Jordan Cronk: Despite the fact that they emanated from the same nascent scene that birthed the Soup Dragons, BMX Bandits and the entirety of the C86 roster, Scottish boy-girl duo The Vaselines always carried a torch for the slightly more extreme corners of the American indie-rock movement. Of course, there’s no denying their allegiance to Orange Juice and the Pastels, the latter of which proved to be probably the most significant musical connection the band would make, but in the music of The Vaselines you can certainly hear the sounds of the American underground (The Modern Lovers, Sonic Youth, Dinosaur and even earlier, The Velvets). Still, The Vaselines were always most concerned with music of the pop variety, and their comparatively aggressive (which is to say not all that aggressive) sound still sounds unique over two decades later. The Vaselines catalogue encompasses a total of 19 officially released songs, and they’ve all been collected before on The Way of the Vaselines compilation, but with the band reunited in 2009 for a handful of festival appearances, Sub Pop has expanded the original comp with the two-disc Enter the Vaselines, appending demos and a couple of live performances to once and for all paint the complete picture of this short-lived but immensely loved act.

As with most bands of their ilk, the early tunes are easily the standouts, and as the core duo of Eugene Kelly and Francis McKee began to augment their lineup with other musicians, their sound shifted noticeably for a sole full-length that lost a bit of the luster in the translation. Their first two EPs then are the diamonds in the rough here, and they just so happen to represent some of the best pure pop music of the 1980s. Released in 1987 on Stephen Pastel’s 53rd & 3rd label (who also contributed guitar throughout), the Son of a Gun EP shows the range of the band even at such an early stage of their development. The three songs cover quite a bit of ground, beginning with the classic pop of the title-track before moving into the driving and slightly sinister “Rory Rides Me Raw” and the proto-dance pop of “You Think You’re a Man,” itself a cover of a track by infamous John Waters-associated drag queen Divine. The unpretentious approach to pop music carries these tracks to some pretty indelible heights, and it’s not hard to see why for many fans this debut remains the favorite.

As a lot of these track titles will indicate, The Vaselines had a prominent sense of sleazy humor, quite a bit different from their more fey and effeminate contemporaries. Kelly and McKee were always open about their relationship status however, and though many of these tracks could be seen as one-off jokes, there’s enough peripheral talent on display to solidify The Vaselines’ status as conscious purveyors of the pop form. Plus, this shit’s pretty funny—always a good thing. Arriving more than a year later, the Dying for It EP eclipses even their airtight debut with four songs of sloppily confident musicianship. Again led by its title track, Dying for It is the most stylistically consistent document of the band, even as it moves from the brief but unforgettable pop nugget “Molly’s Lips” to the hard-charging “Teenage Superstar.” Once again throwing a curveball with the closing track, the poignant and immensely moving near-ballad “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam” stands as the single greatest song Kelly ever penned. It’s an intelligent and dare I say mature moment in a career that very rarely took things too seriously.

The Vaselines were eventually expanded into a four piece (complete with—gasp!—a rhythm section) around the time of their second EP, and when it came time for a full-length album, the influence of their new members, which included James Seenan and brother Charlie Kelly, became pretty recognizable. That’s not to say that the resulting Dum-Dum LP is devoid of worth, when in fact it actually houses a handful of some of the band’s best songs, it’s just that some of that intangible inspiration never made the transition. “Sex Sux (Amen)” pretty righteously encapsulates The Vaselines’ M.O., while “Slushy” and “Monsterpussy” show off the band’s waning pop chops and together make for a nice first quarter. Side 2 opener “Oliver Twisted” bridges the gap between the band’s two sides best, and I venture to say it’s among the band’s most lasting contributions to the rock cannon. Where Dum-Dum stumbles then is in its last quarter, when they attempt to retrofit the blazing “Dying for It” as a slow-burning blues number, as well spinning in terminal repeat mode for the entirely too long “Lovecraft.” At barely 30 minutes in length, Dum-Dum, despite its relative charm, proved that many pop bands from the era simply worked better in shorter formats.

The Vaselines un-dramatically severed ties not long after Dum-Dum, having built up a small but loyal following, not only in and around Glasgow, but in America and amongst the likes of Beat Happening, Mudhoney and, of course, Nirvana. It feels like the oldest story ever told at this point, but Kurt Cobain took his obsession with The Vaselines to the most reverent of heights, covering and immortalizing a handful of the band’s earliest songs, most notably through Nirvana’s infamous MTV Unplugged performance. The two bands are now inextricably linked, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it kind of robs The Vaselines of some of their considerable merits, at least amongst casual fans. As Cobain’s outspoken allegiance and by extension this darn near essential compilation makes clear, Kelly and McKee were among the most inspiring and unassuming of pop groups. If up until now you haven’t taken the time to enter the world of The Vaselines, now would seem to be as prime an opportunity as any. Just be prepared for the return journey to be more akin to a life-long relationship. 

Last Word:

An unexpected if not well-timed re-evaluation of the beloved Glaswegian pop duo The Vaselines, which provides yet another chance for the band to resonate in a posthumous context.

Review By:
Jordan Cronk, Music Editor

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