Warren Zanes, Memory Girls (Dualtone, 2003)
That's Doctor Zanes to you. After an unsatisfying run in Boston's indie rock band The Del Fuegos (with his brother Dan, who has since gone on to a career making children's CDs), Warren Zanes went back to school and got four degrees, including a Ph.D. in Cultural Theory. Upon settling down with a girlfriend he had previously dated fifteen years before (singer April March), Zanes was "not sure what to do with the [intervening] ex-girlfriends." Never having lost his interest in music, a solution became obvious:
"As most people eventually -- and rightly! -- choose, I decided I should put all those former partners in storage. The only question was, 'In what medium should they be stored?' I chose the compact disc."
And so Memory Girls becomes a concept album of sorts, with all the old flames "rattling around [his] head" falling into our ears enrobed in pop confection. But just as the album was being finished, legal tangles prevented its release -- despite contributions from Emmylou Harris, Patty Griffin, The Dust Brothers, and Morphine drummer Billy Conway.
Two years, an "A" review from Entertainment Weekly of a leaked recording, and a contract with independent-minded record label Dualtone (home of such musical outsiders as Victoria Williams, Jeff Black and Hayseed Dixie) later, and his album finally came to light. A combination of varying influences and an ear for modern production styles make a dozen songs that easily comprise some of the best music I've heard this year. Whenever I listen to Memory Girls, I continue to be fascinated by the layers it reveals each time: quirky lyrics, nostalgic melodies, and special musical effects only adding to the experience.
The myriad influences begin with "Everybody Loves You," which starts the set with Zanes listing off his subject's faults ("sometimes you holler and I get scared, there's a 100-watt amp in you somewhere"; "when you're asked to leave, it seems you sometimes stay"), while reminding her that "hey, everybody loves you that way." The Beatles pop up twice, with evidence, though a thread runs throughout the recording. "If You Could Stay" opens with a riff identical to the one that starts "Getting Better." Meanwhile, "Sidewalk Sale," in addition to containing the album's best lyrics, boasts a guitar solo that compares to George Harrison's work from the Sergeant Pepper/Magical Mystery Tour era. After listing out all the things she left behind ("the records you left me, the cookbooks, the 10-inch TV. . . the pedestal you were put on"), Zanes tells his former lady love that:
"I think I've had my fill, so if you want the stuff,
You're gonna see it in a sidewalk sale,
Old boxes and broken chairs,
Strangers can take this stuff away.
You're gonna see it in a sidewalk sale,
On the lawn on a sunny day,
You're gonna see it in a sidewalk sale someday."
But, in addition to the Fab Four, Zanes shows his facility with the other influences that permeate Memory Girls. He tries on his Leonard Cohen hat for "Did You Recognize My Love?" "First on the Moon" (the first single) recalls early Michael Penn with a little of Beck's quirky production values (courtesy, one assumes, of the Dust Brothers, producers of Beck's sample-filled Odelay), and "World of Concrete" channels a more pop-oriented Tom Petty. "Have You Once Recalled the Day?" brings up memories of slow Saturday Night Fever-period disco. And "Where We Began" reminds me a lot of Breck Alan's "One More Day" without Alan's odd vocal affectation. (Which came first I can't say, so let's chalk it up to zeitgeist.)
Throughout Memory Girls, however, runs the personality of Warren Zanes himself. After all, these are his stories we're hearing, and he is truly exposing himself (and others) to our scrutiny -- including the possibly embarrassing admission that opens "Main Street." Each song is like a short story, and though each tale stands on its own, they all combine into a multi-faceted portrait. The album was originally intended as a purging of thoughts, a sort of musical therapy, and he knows that the only way to do it right is to do it completely. As he says in the haunting "Scrapbook" (the thematic centerpiece):
"Let's really lay it bare...
Let's really let 'em stare
Let's put it all in there."
Lucky for us, it's a great show. And one that no one else could have written.
Check out Warren Zanes' Web site for samples, news, and where to see him play live.
