The Slack is back
Latest album ripe with soul, politics
By Rob Sarwark, ArtsEtc. writer
How The Slackers survived the “third wave” American ska scene comes as no real surprise. Despite the fact that they completely painted themselves into a corner in the late ’90s, they are, in fact, so much more than just a “ska” band — whatever the hell that term means these days.
Although much of their sound harkens back to the smooth harmonies and clear-cut rhythms of ’60s pop from the United States, United Kingdom and especially Jamaica, this New York septet also takes its cues from the likes of the edgier Velvet Underground and Elvis Costello and the Attractions.
But what makes them so appealing is the fact that they have remolded the originally Jamaican musical styles of ska, rocksteady and reggae into something that is unmistakably sincere, NYC to the bone and by no means an anachronism.
Close My Eyes, which derives its name from a line in Jack Kerouac’s “Visions of Gerard,” is The Slackers’ seventh album since their brilliantly raw 1996 debut Better Late Than Never, and they show no signs of losing any momentum.
With their ears to the streets and their hearts in the right place, this latest addition focuses on death, life, love, redemption and how all of these relate to the grand scheme of things in a post-9/11 world. Rest assured, there’s no ultra-radical preaching here but rather a plea for reason in an oftentimes-chaotic and cruel world.
Starting off with a bang, the rhythm-jumping skank of the instrumental first track “Shankbön” heralds the emotion and spirit of what’s to come, replete with fervent solos from trombone and tenor-sax virtuosos Glen Pine and David Hillyard, respectively. Comprising the group’s horn section, Pine and Hillyard provide an exquisite and masterful yet sensibly restrained dimension for The Slackers’ overall sound.
Fortunately absent from the otherwise-luminous horn section is the regularly off-key and mediocre-at-best Jeremy Mushlin on trumpet, who was wisely demoted to guest-status on the group’s 2001 release Wasted Days.
Heading up the rhythm section — and the band as a whole — is keyboardist/singer-songwriter/producer Vic Ruggiero, whose thick and gritty organ work coats every song like caramel on an apple. Backing him up are bassist Marcus Geard, guitarist T.J. Scanlon and rookie drummer Allen Teboul. Together they lay the pulsating foundations of the band’s inimitable sound.
The sardonic and calypso-esque “Old Dog” sets the album’s precedent for Ruggiero’s honest and erudite songwriting. His smoky crooning places him somewhere between Bob Marley and Bob Dylan with a style and a swagger all his own. This time around, the politics of Vic and company come out in full force in songs like “Bin Waitin”, where he laments, “War and bloodshed’s on my door / I’ve been scarred before but / this is an open wound.”
And when vocalist and resident emcee Marq Lyn (aka DJ Q-Maxx) spits lyrical venom against the powers-that-be on the dark dub-reggae of “Real War,” one can’t help but heed his observation that now is the “time to fight the real war / against hunger and poverty.”
At the peak of the album’s emotion and depth, Ruggiero offers a beautiful and heartbreaking tribute to his recently departed mother with “Mommy,” a lively yet mournful ska tune sung from the perspective of a young child. Despite the extremely weighty and reflective subject matter involved, none of the songs on Close My Eyes sound very sorrowful or morose at all, but rather come across as songs founded upon a sense of joyous hope derived from life experience and the resolve to persevere.
“Who Knows” is a slick and smooth rocksteady romp, and it perhaps is Close My Eyes’ most poppy and lighthearted. The album’s title track is as passionate as it is nihilistic; Ruggiero cautions, “Revolution ain’t my job / and if I sing your happy song / please don’t tell me I am wrong.” Wrapping things up is the psychedelic and deliciously percussive instrumental “Decon Dub”.
The album’s only shortcomings are the seemingly out-of-place and whimsical “Lazy Woman” and “Don’t Wanna Go”, the latter sounding conspicuously akin to the Bob Marley classic “Stir it Up”. Aside from that, Close My Eyes is really only lacking in its relatively short duration. At 12 songs, the disc is just under 48 minutes long.
No matter how cohesive an album The Slackers have or will put out, nothing truly compares to their live shows. And don’t let the name fool you; these guys are constantly touring. After losing track of the band’s career from 1998 to 2001, once the American ska phenomenon had suddenly became passé and scores of bands were dropping like flies, I assumed that they had either disbanded or perhaps continued as more of a novelty than a serious act.
However, my doubts were laid to rest when I caught their performance here in Madison at the Annex in spring 2002. All I can say is that I instantly confessed my sins, shook my ass, and reconverted to the Church of Slack. Hallelujah!
Grade: A/B
