If we lived in a vacuum, we would have blessedly been spared the risible likes of “Girl You Know It’s True,” questions about the identity of someone releasing dogs, and L.A.’s the Black Eyed Peas, but then we might have missed out on various nuggets that astonished us with their (gasp) irresistibility. Whether diamond-in-the-rough one hit wonders, the rare gem or two in the otherwise suspect careers of pop stars, or entire stretches of worthy interest in a style that might have been barren before and after, there are some pop songs that reflect nothing of substance and still work. Ariel Pink’s fondness for that kind of AM clutter has informed numerous releases to this point (of which I am admittedly only familiar with a small handful), but what I’ve heard has led me to the conclusion that Pink wriggled through old vinyl collections and re-imagined them from the point of view of forced anti-commerciality: the subject of lo-fi as benefit as much as circumstance. There was a cheapness, a weirdness, a cunning slovenliness to it all, suggesting a withdrawal from polish as if to forcefully suggest that formula works in any medium so long as it’s sound. Now with Before Day, he’s finally created the slickly produced monument to the plastic pop, soul, disco and funk of the 70s and 80s. Imitation, sincerest form, flattery, you get what I mean.
Even though Pink (née Rosenberg) certainly isn’t the first to muss up pop music with experimental bits, tape hiss, and an all-around outsider mentality, he trades in on his niche with this borderline-glossy LP. Not necessarily a bad thing, though certainly not a unique stamp—it’s remarkable how frequently I thought of Super Furry Animal dreamscapes while this is spinning—but more importantly, it’s a reminder of why the radio is so hit and miss. There’s not a lot of dignity in so much exuberance and sparkle, but like it or not, it’s a lot easier to hum along to Kool & the Gang than Scratch Acid. But unlike the radio, which is predominantly “miss” these days (almost a monopoly, frankly), Ariel Pink and his Haunted Graffiti backing band hits just enough to make the effort pretty substantial. Besides a few melody snatches and instinctive hooks, Before Day lacks consequence as much as it lacks identity, but those few snatches and hooks are dynamite.
Besides its self-aware slightness, the two glaring faults with Before Day are forgivable to the point of ignoring the crime altogether (a “boys will be boys” mentality). The first is, of course, the numbers that are a little muddled or mundane, but no one has ever demanded consistency from this kind of cotton candy—hell, even Thriller has a pair of clunkers in “The Girl Is Mine” and “The Lady in My Life.” The second is familiarity: what we don’t recognize from decades past, we acknowledge an awareness of other bastard pop all-stars like Mercury Rev, the Apples in Stereo and, again, SFA. Yet originality and consistency can be gratuitous virtues, especially when you’re emphasizing the “pop” part of pop music. As is the case with extended sessions with the deejay recycling all the hits of yesterday, all that matters is which numbers stick and which have you itching for the dial (er, I mean the skip button).
Maybe I needed time to adjust and unearth the unmistakable pleasures inside the plasticity, but the album’s shakiest stretch comes right off the bat (though multiple spins don’t support that theory). A whirling maze of lounge horns and funky synths leans towards Pink’s experimental side on the opening near-instrumental “Hot Body Rub,” which only makes the garage psych pop ditty “Bright Lit Blue Skies” just sound even more dated (and boilerplate) despite some nice harmonies. The scissoring DayGlo sections of “L’estat” compete against sound drops and acid-lite bits, and comes across as campy glam meets trashy post-everything. And “Fright Night” has garish down to cheesy (right down to the blandly inviting synth line trying to resist the Costello-friendly lead vocal), but can’t quite coalesce beyond curio. After that, though, even the silliest aspects start to flash chintzy charm and the disc really takes off.
The slickness favors tunes like “Beverly Kills” and “Can’t Hurt My Eyes,” which don’t need irony to triumph as roller disco-friendly jams. The almost six-minute jigsaw puzzle that is “Little Wig” comes across as elephantine prog when examined bit by bit, but the grand scheme reveals little more than just ambitious, even serpentine, pop delirium at its most divinely over-the-top. Then there’s “Butt-House Blondies,” which has a loud and ecstatic heavy metal guitar roar while the alternately muffled and chirpy vocals spell out, “She’s dumb and she’s dumb ‘cause she really, really thinks that she’s dumb.” Yes, it is that dumb, but then so was the smile plastered across my face. But nothing on here can trump first single “Round and Round,” though. Imagine the “Billie Jean” riff transformed into krautrock. Add big echoing sighs and buttery synths. Insert a vocal segment that sounds like a tribute to Spandau Ballet. Think solo Phil Collins pretending to be solo Peter Gabriel (or vice versa). Now pretend it’s goofy enough to be “cute” but towering enough to be “epic.” In other words, it’s a bonafide dazzler, especially after return visits.
A similar strutting bassline pilots “Menopause Man,” a rare tune that hones its edge, not just in the sinister undercurrent, but also in the bizarre, shrapnel-barbed words: “Make me menstrual, menopause man/Rape me, castrate me, make me gay.” Petering out with static and whirlpool shrieks, “Menopause” gallops right into the motorik-via-Suicide closer “Revolution’s a Lie,” adding more churning dissonance to the velveteen sheen. If these last two represent Pink’s attempt to “pull a Georgie Fruit,” it’s a little late and a little too tentative, but it does prove that there’s more going on here than just a good imitation of Steely Rundgren and Emerson, Peaches & Oates. But as for that imitation—yes, Before Today revels in perhaps a few too many faux-hideous surface pop disguises, but it’s also a reminder that things like “camp” and “crassness” refer to instinct more than the actual pulse. Since modern pop is such a grab bag of (mostly) real-hideous trials, it’s nice for a guy like Ariel Pink to remind us that it’s all one big mess waiting to be sorted and rebuilt. For the most part, the architects of Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti have the Midas touch.
"Before Today" is on sale June 8, 2010 from 4AD.
