Album Review: Spiritualized - And Nothing Hurt
For a very long time, Spiritualized were just a band that I
was aware of, but had never really sat down with or paid very much attention
to.
The first time I gave the band a listen was in the spring of
2011—wading in as far as I could with their seminal 1997 effort, Ladies and Gentlemen, We Are Floating in
Space. I had done so as a bit of a joke—maybe not a joke, per se, but
sitting down with the record, at that time, was not in earnest intent.
During this time, I had an hour-long radio show, every
weekday afternoon. I was always searching for both new music, as well as
revisiting old, in an effort to diversify my set for the day. In May of that
year, you may recall there was some kind of elderly, evangelical figure who
claimed there were numerological clues in the bible, and that the rapture was
coming on a specific date.
It didn’t happen—obviously, but in an effort to reference
this bit of strange news, I thought it would be appropriate to play both “The
Stations” by The Gutter Twins, as well as the titular track from Ladies and Gentlemen, We Are Floating in
Space, at the top of my show, the following Monday after nobody was
raptured.
I did listen to Ladies
and Gentlemen in its entirety a few times—even adding the sprawling,
orchestral, and somber “Broken Heart” into my show once or twice, but the album
itself, as a whole, for as loved as it is, or revered as it is—it’s very, very
difficult to access. It’s not inaccessible—it just takes time, and you have to
find it at the right time.
The right time found me, or I thought it did, in 2015, when
I picked the record back up a second time—there had been a sudden death in the
family and I found myself, while sinking into a pretty serious depression,
listening to “Broken Heart” over, and over again. I went as far as to purchase
a copy of Ladies and Gentlemen on
vinyl (a Plain Recordings pressing that, yes, it doesn’t sound all that great but it isn’t as insufferable
as audiophiles on Discogs make it out to be.)
But even then, there’s something about it—as well as other
entries in Jason Pierce’s cannon—that keep you (or at least me) at an arm’s
length.
This is still the case for the latest album from Jason Piece
and Spiritualized—his first record with the project in roughly six years. And Nothing Hurt—unfortunately sharing a
title, or at least part of a title, with that Moby album released earlier this year—finds Piece, not so much operating on auto-pilot—no, many of these songs
are much to complicated in arrangement for that; however, across the album’s
nine tracks, Pierce operates from place of restraint and reservation, while
still trying to, as best he is able, work in the bombast that Piece and the
group was known for in the mid-1990s.
Occasionally, when I listen to Ladies and Gentlemen at home, and my wife hears the cacophonic
swells of “Come Together,” she’ll joke and ask if I am listening to Aerosmith.
Primarily, it’s because of the overpowering presence of the harmonica and
blasts from a horn section on that song—she think it is slightly reminiscent of
early 90s Aerosmith, specifically “Crying.”
I understand that she’s joking, but I also can see, ever so
slightly, the similarity.
And Nothing Hurt
is Piece’s eighth album with Spiritualized, and since Ladies and Gentlemen, he’s moved out of the post-shoegaze, noise,
and dissonance that dominated the first two Spiritualized records, as well as
his work with the infamous 1980s psychedelics of Spacemen 3. The sound of
Spiritualized is hard to describe, and while Piece has incorporated older
elements of his sound into latter day output, there’s also a lot of Rolling
Stones-esque blues and gospel influence too—as well as just a large, pompous
‘rock’ sound.
I mean, on Let it Come
Down includes over 120 musicians.
And Nothing Hurt,
more or less, represents the space where an artist who has huge ideas collides with
that artist’s own reality—at 52, Piece has lived a very hard life; Spacemen 3
were not shy about their recreational drug use, and that all caught up to him
in 2005, when he almost died (his heart stopped twice according to his
Wikipedia entry) during a serious bout with pneumonia; prior to that, Pierce
learned that his liver was ‘pretty much gone.’
And during the press cycle for Spiritualized’s last album, Sweet Heart Sweet Light, Piece mentions
undergoing chemotherapy, though he does not specify for what.
Piece’s overall fragility may explain the more reserved
nature that parts of And Nothing Hurt
takes; however, it’s not an album of ‘easy listening’—both in a metaphorical or
literal sense. There are still plenty of bombastic, dense, and cacophonic
moments1 found throughout.
Over the last 20+ years, it’s clear that Piece has become a
more concise, focused songwriter. The longest song on And Nothing Hurt is a little over seven minutes, which is
relatively short when compared to, you know, the 17 minute opus “Cop Shoot Cop”
that concludes Ladies and Gentlemen. And
as a whole, there is less emphasis throughout And Nothing Hurt on setting a tone or creating an atmosphere that
will last from beginning to end; here, Pierce seems more occupied with writing
moderately catchy refrains or melodies.
And Nothing Hurt
begins with a sense of whimsy, to the sound of a gently strummed ukulele that
opens up “A Perfect Miracle.” From there, it becomes relatively clear why I’m
struggling so hard to find And Nothing
Hurt to be a compelling or interesting listen—it is simply lacking any kind
of urgency.
There was a real, visceral immediacy to the snarls, caprice,
and drugged-out sadness of Ladies and
Gentlemen; however, here, that is missing, and the album winds up sounding
incredibly sleepy, with minor fits of restlessness throughout. It’s a formula
that he winds up following very closely on And
Nothing Hurt, making it a bit of a tedious of a listen.
“A Perfect Miracle” waltzes around on the top of the ukulele
strumming and generic ‘space noise’ beeps and boops that come in courtesy of a
synthesizer before welcoming cascades of grandiose orchestration, and echoes of
Ladies and Gentlemen’s titular track,
which found Pierce overlapping his vocals and lyrics, singing almost in a bit
of a round. While he attempts something similar here, the overall result is not
nearly as impactful or impressive.
As And Nothing Hurt
continues, Pierce slides into that aforementioned bluesy sound on one of the
album’s advanced singles, “I’m Your Man,” a slow burning give and take between
moments of quiet, and explosions of gritty guitar solos, organs, and horns that
punctuate alongside Pierce’s voice in the song’s refrain.
After two incredibly insipid and mundane tracks, “Here It
Comes (The Road) Let’s Go” and “Let’s Dance,” Pierce suddenly finds some
enthusiasm with the mix of blues, rock, and kaleidoscopic psychedelics on “On
The Sun.” The lyrics here—as they are on, like, every song, leave a lot to be
desired: “You can always do tomorrow what
you cannot do today,” and “You can
always count your blessings, babe, before the foul has laid” seem like they
were pulled from some kind of large volume of clichés, and this song is one of
the many times where Piece’s singing voice starts to show its age, but at least
he’s managed to find some energy for the album, musically speaking.
The rest of And
Nothing Hurt continues to stick very closely to the aforementioned
formula—“The Morning After” is another raucous number, finding its way into a
shuffling and tumbling groove; “Damaged,” “The Prize,” and the album’s dizzying
closing track “Sail on Through,” all seem to tread at a glacial pace until Pierce
finds it within to intermittently inject swooning orchestral accompaniments.
Over 30 years into his career, Jason Pierce, or J Spaceman
as he sometimes likes to be called, is a ‘legacy artist,’ who is, in a sense,
still coasting through on the storied name of Spacemen 3, as well as the
built-in mythology surrounding the initial run of Spiritualized albums. His latter
day work under the band’s name isn’t one of diminishing returns, but it’s also
not exactly memorable material. Prior to
the press cycle for And Nothing Hurt,
Pierce claimed this was the final Spiritualized album, though now, in an
interview with The New York Times, he
says otherwise.
And Nothing Hurt
is not a bad record, per se; at
times, it can sound quite beautiful, and with Pierce handling the production
duties, you can tell that he labored over this thing for probably most of the
six years between it and Sweet Heart
Sweet Light. But a robust, warm sounding record is one thing—and a record
emotional depth and the ability connect with its listeners is another. And
frankly, that’s what this is lacking in the end.
If we’re measuring this by Aristotle’s Poetics, Pierce and And
Nothing Hurt rely to heavily on spectacle for it to be the kind of
memorable, thought provoking listen that you would want to return to for
subsequent listens. Instead, this just becomes one more record I’ve heard in
2018 that I will, more than likely, never listen again to after this review is
published.
1- It seems worth noting that, a number of years ago,
when I still was employed at the bookstore, I tried playing a copy of Ladies and Gentlemen, We Are Floating in
Space in the store. During “Come Together,” the owner of the store, who
happened to also be working that day, at that time, told me to turn it down a
little; I did, and then, as the album continued, during “Electricity,” she told
me it was ‘too aggressive’ and I had to turn it off, then tried to engage me in
confrontation over it, which I declined to do. It’s for the best I am no longer
employed by this person, but whenever I think of Spiritualized, or Ladies and Gentlemen, I do think about
how the music is just too darn aggressive for the tastes of middle age white
women.
And Nothing Hurt
is out now via Fat Possum; it's also available from Pierce's online store, alongside myriad trinkets relating to the album.
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