Unlike at least some (and possibly many) of my published arts critic peers, I actually enjoy being proven wrong, Maybe it’s because my very first nationally published record review helped inspire a band whose album I panned to switch gears on their recording approach and score a commercial and creative breakthrough. Much as I can get caustic when I hear music I don’t like – plus, there are few things more fun than slamming bad music with wit and flair; I do generally try to make my criticism constructive, however – I do like to see creatives rise to the occasion and do good work. When they conquer my doubts it’s even more fun.
If I was still as much as an active music reviewer in major rock music mags and newspapers as I was in the past for a good four decades plus, I’d be having a ball slicing, dicing. But when rock fans of my vintage ask me if there’s modern rock acts they might enjoy, it’s a challenge for me to come up with anything more than a rather slim shortlist.
But there is one recent rock album that at this juncture I am loving and immensely enjoying in multiple successive plays, and would rather enthusiastically recommend to anyone who might inquire: Lucifer on the Sofa by Spoon. And words almost can’t express how delighted I am that the band’s singer, songwriter, guitarist and chief visionary, Britt Daniel, has proven me wrong time and again and now yet again, better than ever.
Britt and I have history. When I became an editor at the Austin Chronicle alternative newsweeekly in 1991, Britt was an aspiring young musician in the local music scene. Our paper ran a small “new band” feature on his previous group, Skellington. But then in a round-up of reviews of local musical artist recordings, I gave a them a less-than-enthusiastic notice.
Daniel, who I was told was less than pleased, remained a good sport and even penned a few record reviews for the music section I oversaw. When he formed Spoon with drummer Jim Eno, I started snacking down on my words when I saw an impressive early live gig and then heard and was duly impressed by their distinctive debut album, “Telefono,” which had a style with, at the time, Daniels’ acoustic guitar at the center of the band’s angular modern rock style.
Since then, I’ve listened to how Spoon has matured and focused into one of America’s finest contemporary rock acts over subsequent albums, becoming leading lights of the indie rock scene. Those unfamiliar with the group should give a listen to the band’s 2019 best of set, “Everything Hits at Once,” as a starting place. At an outdoor amphitheater show here in their hometown. I was wowed by the dynamism they displayed as a full-blown, mature and successful, yet not compromised band. (As I write this, Spoon is touring North America, and well worth catching live.)
Spoon’s album “Lucifer on the Sofa” released earlier this year, represents yet a further leap forward. Daniels’ songwriting has grown even tighter and more keenly focused, arranged with such ingenious care as to be bereft of any excess. The tunes play with a masterful appeal, proving how there is still some new life to be found in the rock music genre. I’d go so far as to say that, in its way, it’s as close as a band can get to making an album that feels just perfect.
And that evokes delight in this frequently tough and sometimes cynical critic. That it is a group led by someone I know that I’ve followed from early days to witness Spoon become an exemplar of modern rock at its smartest ices the cake of satisfaction I get from what Daniel has accomplished. To borrow and adapt a line from Neil Young, long may they run.
Rob Patterson is a music and entertainment writer in Austin, Texas. Email orca@prismnet.com.
From The Progressive Populist, August 1, 2022
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