For the third time in six reviews, the CD gods have randomly decided I should listen to some early nineties rock. Now, you shall read about it.
Disc 1445 is…. Self-Titled
Artist: Blind Melon
Year of Release: 1992
What’s up with the Cover? Bee Girl. This same bee girl featured in the band’s big video, but I never got into the whole Bee Girl hype that seemed to sweep the music video world when it came out. I would much rather see an artist’s rendition of what a blind melon might look like. How would you distinguish it from a regular melon? The mind reels…
How I Came To Know It: My roommate in the early nineties (Greg) owned this album and it received a fair amount of airplay in our apartment. I never thought to own it for myself, but recently when my friend Chris was parting with his CDs (as most of the world is currently doing), I obtained it from his collection.
How It Stacks Up: This is my only Blind Melon CD so it can’t stack up.
Ratings: 2 stars
Imagine if a bunch of sixties hippies decided to reinterpret grunge and you’ll have an approximation of Blind Melon. Plenty of guitar crunch and reverb, crossed with the meander of a stoned beach bum looking for a place to sleep off a hard night into the afternoon.
Most of the songs feature a lot of freewheelin’, energetic instruments wah-wahing away in various directions. Despite all that activity, the musicianship is tight. The guitar work is solid, crossing groovy riffs reminiscent of Soundgarden’s Kim Thayil with a messy sixties sound that feels a bit like Jimi Hendrix.
More than a bit, in fact – these guys clearly love Hendrix, on “Seed to a Tree” they even directly borrow a riff, adding a cavalier exclamation of “Jimmy, we need to borrow this for a minute” before playing a small part of what I think is “The Wind Cries Mary”. It’s a gratuitous line (both the lyric and riff) that just draws your attention to the fact that as good as Rogers Stevens is, he’s no Hendrix, and no Thayil either.
The record is overblown in many places, with a kind of fuzzed-out excess. Many songs have solid riffs and promising melodies but end up feeling overly earnest and unfocused. Some of the songs (particularly the final track, “Time”) don’t know when to end, like a lingering party guest who’s had too much but is still wobbling around the kitchen refusing to call a cab.
When Blind Melon does strip it down, such as on “Change” and “No Rain” is when I like them best. Both songs have the band getting their hippie on, lyrically and musically. “Change” has a little harmonica and acoustic guitar, as the aforementioned beach dweller has roused himself, faced his hard life, and decided its time for a change. “Change” also has a solid (and uncharacteristically restrained) guitar solo that grow the song and gives it a little extra emotional oomph right when it’s most needed. “No Rain” is another sad one, exploring depression and ennui, but making it enjoyable with some well-placed finger snaps and one of rock and roll’s great guitar riffs.
Both “Change” and “No Rain” are anthems built to be loved by disaffected Gen-Xers in their early twenties (guilty). Variations of “life sucks, but I’ll fill my day in some semi-useful ways.” They don’t defeat depression and ennui so much as they shrug them off and ignore them. “Keep dreamin’ and maybe read a book if you’re bored” are about the only answers they offer up. For all that, Shannon Hoon’s vocals are so heartfelt that listening, it feels like enough.
In the end, these two songs (plus late album standout “Holy Man”) aren’t enough to make me want to listen to the whole record again. It is all just a bit too sprawling and unfocused to hold my attention.
Because of this, Blind Melon will be leaving my collection only a few short months after I brought it home. I’ll offer it back to my friend Chris, and if he won’t take it, I’ll look farther afield for a good home.
Best tracks: Change, No Rain, Holy Man
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