A long day with some bad news is
over, and it is time for a young man to turn his eyes to thoughts of music – or
in this case, a middle aged man to turn his eyes to the memories of being a
young man.
Disc 401 is…The Ghosts That Haunt Me
Year of Release: 1991
What’s Up With The Cover?: A great cover – one of my all time favourites. This is Gustav Dore work based on the Rime of
the Ancient Mariner. My guess is that
this scene is Death and She that is Life-in-Death throwing dice for the souls
of the crew. The booklet that comes with
the CD features song lyrics and many more of Dore’s “Ancient Mariner” series.
Dore is one of my favourite
artists. in fact, my library is partly
decorated with two low-budget prints of his.
“Don Quixote in his library” and “Don Quixote and the Windmill.”
How I Came To Know It: Like the previous Ministry
review, this album was a big part of my youth.
In this case not from night clubs, but from a couple years earlier when
I was attending the University of Victoria.
How It Stacks Up: I only have two Crash Test Dummies CDs. This one and “God Shuffled His Feet” which I
reviewed way back at Disc 175. “Ghosts
That Haunt Me” is far and away the better record.
Rating: 4 stars
Some memories
haunt you like a ghost, fresh and nasty even through the intervening years. Other memories are like a friendly spirit
watching over you; unobtrusive but there when you need them. “The Ghosts That Haunt Me” is the musical
equivalent of a friendly spirit for me.
I first heard
this record while attending university.
I spent a lot of time in the local university pub (“Felicita’s”) and
this was a mainstay on the jukebox. Even
with limited money, someone at the table could usually scrounge up what was needed
to plug a couple songs into the jukebox – and something off this record was
very often one of them. I don’t know
what letter/number combination represented “Superman’s
Song” but I wouldn’t be surprised if the ink on the key was worn off from
students pressing it in 1991.
This album was
the Dummies’s big debut and while it went unnoticed south of the border, it hit
hard in Canada, making them instant stars on university campuses across the country.
This was the world’s introduction
to singer Brad Roberts’ unique bass voice, deep and personal, yet capable of
surprisingly high range. This was also
before later albums, where Roberts’ voice can sometimes sound like a caricature
of itself. On “Ghosts That Haunt Me”
(hereafter referred to as “Ghosts”) it is the perfect combination of whimsy and
heartfelt emotional expression that the songs call for.
The great and famous track on the
album is the aforementioned “Superman’s
Song” and when it happened to come on (or when we forced it to come on with
a spare dollar) large portions of the campus pub would stop what they were
doing, and start swaying in unison and singing along.
It is a song that appeals to
idealistic youth. A look at
Superman as a guy who sacrifices his life for the people without reward, compared to another early
20th century hero – Tarzan.
Where Tarzan is revered for leaving civilization behind, “Superman’s Song” reminds you it is much
harder to stick it out and try to make things better. Even though Superman could do whatever he
wanted with his powers we are reminded that his greatest accomplishment is that he doesn't:
“Sometimes, when Supe was stopping crimes
I’ll be that he was tempted to just quit and turn his back
On man, join Tarzan in the forest.
But he stayed in the city, and kept on changing clothes
In dirty old phone booths til his work was through
And nothing to do but go on home.”
The song’s chorus is bittersweet:
“Superman never made any money
For saving the world from Solomon Gundy
And sometimes I despair the world will never see
Another man like him.”
Yet despite its simple tune and
mournful pacing, as long as a song this beautiful exists about mankind’s better
nature, then that better nature will survive.
And if I ever despaired that this wasn’t true in my youth (and I did)
watching all those strangers swaying and singing along reaffirmed my shaky
faith in the good in people. It was a
room full of folks who wanted to be heroes; if we didn't quite get there, at
least the song helped inspire all of us to try.
Other standouts include the title
track, which is a song about how all troubles are easier when you’ve got
someone in your corner that loves you. I
can attest to that truth. The song’s
combination of low, ghostly guitar notes match perfectly with hopeful plucking
on the mandolin. Yes, the Dummies’ use the
mandolin liberally and I thank them for it.
There are plenty of other good
tracks as well, many of which give you pause for thought, sometimes
humorously. “Androgynous” is a song about dismissing arbitrary gender roles
which although dated now, had a good bit to say in 1992.
Because I know this record so
well, and it has been such a large part of my life, I tend to give it a bit of
a pass when it gets overly silly, which it does from time to time, and I’m also
tend to forgive some of the weaker lyrics .
“The Country Life” is overly
goofy, and tune doesn’t do enough to rescue it. “The Voyage” – about backpacking across Europe with your girlfriend –
is too much of a college stereotype to be fully forgiven. It also features some painful rhyme crimes: “the
youth hostels they have there would be perfect for /Cause we’re both youths, so
they would really suit us,” and “After
that we’d go to Yugoslavia/O how I’d love to travel with ya.” Yech – that is some bad tasting stuff.
That said, for the most part the
humour is good, and the album tends to make the right musical choices for each
song, whether it is the electric guitar riff backing the story of the boorish “Thick-Necked Man” or the tinkling piano
making you feel homesick and nostalgic on “Winter
Song.”
The music isn’t particularly
complicated, but playing simple music tightly is not as easy as it seems –
usually you only get noticed when you’re doing it poorly. Ellen Reid adds high and breathy tones also
act as the perfect background vocals to Roberts’ lead.
The album ends with one of my
favourite songs, “At My Funeral,”
which serves as the Dummies’ version of “Crossing
the Bar.” If I were the Dummies’
manager I’d push for them to emulate Tennyson, and make "At My Funeral" the final song they played at every concert,
and the one that ended every compilation of their work.
Starting with a lone piano and
Roberts’ mournful voice, it slowly builds momentum like a funeral march, adding
in the distant crash of drum, mandolin, it is a song I would like played at my
own funeral. Quoting the lyrics in this
case wouldn’t do them justice – they aren’t the same without the careful
cadence of the song.
This is a song that needs to be
soaked in, and if you let that happen then when it ends you’ll feel like you’ve
had the chance to be at your own funeral.
Not as a vengeful spirit, either, but peacefully watching over your pals
as they lower you into the ground. Kind
of like this album musically watches over me.
Best tracks: Superman Song, The
Ghosts That Haunt Me, At My Funeral.
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