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April 16, 2007
Obscurer Than Thou: the Verlaines
D. Klein continues his hot streak by turning in an addition to his other series, Obscurer Than Thou, a profile of Kiwi rock stalwarts, the Verlaines. I know that technically a small by engaged swath of you might have heard of the Verlaines previously, but their early singles compilation runs about 100 bucks on Amazon, so clearly the need for this stuff outstrips the current supply. I requested the Verlaines as a public service for an out of print tragedy. Yes, You're right I am a hero. (JK)
The Rain
by David Klein
The name Verlaine is not exactly a great predictor of commercial success on the rock scene. Besides its association with the tragic French poet, Verlaine rhymes with rain, pain, and slain. Very gloom and doom stuff. Its most famous rock namesake, Tom (formerly Miller) of Television, never sold a lot of records, but at least his (and the band’s) influence extends from the punk era to current outfits like Interpol. The great, largely unsung band known as the Verlaines never achieved even that worthy measure of acclaim. You won’t be seeing a major piece on them in next month’s MOJO. But the New Zealand outfit, whose career sprawled from 1980 to ’97, with only six full-length albums to show for it, produced some of the most perfectly glorious songs that might ever be called indie, and which will continue to be cherished by certain people who swoon when they hear the Verlaines’ distinctive blend of orchestral melancholy and bracing jangle.
In the late ‘80s, New Zealand enjoyed a brief moment in the indie-rock sun. Suddenly, it seemed, all these bands on the Flying Nun label were pumping out various forms of rustic, guitar-driven post-punk, with a pronounced pop sensibility and always a certain measure of weirdness. Several of these bands got American distribution as well as tours. While the Clean featured a certain cheeky, off-kilter charm, the Chills and the Verlaines treaded in darker, more poetic territory. The early Verlaines singles managed to marry a DIY feel with baroque arrangements and instrumentation that bespoke a more studied approach, rooted in more traditional types of music. Not surprising, since Verlaines leader Graeme Downes was a classically trained musician who pursued his Ph.D. between albums. This is what we knew of him, mostly. That, and he was possessed of a glowering handsomeness, in the hollow-cheeked way of buccaneers and consumptive poet types.
the Verlaines - "Death and the Maiden"
It could easily be argued that the definitive Verlaines single is “Death and the Maiden.” With a chorus consisting of the increasingly emphatic repetition of the word Verlaine, the song served as a pretty ace calling card—certainly miles ahead of Living in a Box’s “Living in a Box.” Like any great single, it packs a miniature world within the confines of its three-minute (OK, four-minute) structure. With an irresistible opening line, “You’re just too/too obscure for me,” and a cranky, accusing vocal, the song itself revels in obscurity, referencing the poets Verlaine and Rimbaud, and the painting “Death and the Maiden” by Egon Schiele. When the song stops dead about midway and an almost roller rink-y organ starts playing rudimentary lines, it brings to mind the shut-in son of a debauched count desultorily practicing scales on his harpsichord. And just as it sounds like all is going to implode (something I always look for in a great single), the train swings back into view, snatches you up, and barrels home in an adrenaline-raising cascade of harmonized “Verlaines.”
It’s probably a good thing that not all Verlaines tracks veered as close to chaos. While the band is known for its classical touches, Downes & Co. produced some wistfully lovely, far less bizarre songs. With its furiously strummed acoustic guitars, memorable minor-key melody, and Downes’ urgent vocals, “Pyromaniac” has a bit of the flavor of Jackie DeShannon’s “Don’t Turn Your Back on Me.”* Castanets might have really lifted this one into the stratosphere. “Doomsday,” another strong early single, quotes the guitar figure from the ‘60s folk-rock classic “Needles and Pins” during the verses. With the Verlaines, it’s never going to be uncomplicated breezy summer afternoon pop, but it’s furtively catchy with refreshingly distinct notes of angst and paranoia. See if you don’t agree.
* footnote bonus mp3: Jackie DeShannon - "Don't Turn Your Back on Me"
Previously: Retrohump Day - Kiwi Rock
Posted by Jeff Klingman at April 16, 2007 10:42 AM
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Comments
Good stuff. This makes me want to listen to all their stuff again, and re-explore the prime Flying Nun material we used to (your word) SWOON too. Uh, I never realized you had a crush on Graeme's "glowering handsomeness".
Hi, this is my brother David. He swoons alot and thinks the leader of the Verlaines is REALLY goodlooking.
Posted by: jonny at April 17, 2007 05:46 PM
I think the expression is, "eat me," o my brother.
Posted by: david at April 17, 2007 06:48 PM
