Gustaf: A New Obsession

 

My friend had some very hot Wet Leg tickets. 

As much as I love that record, the idea of a nuts-to-butts club show in Bushwick Brooklyn on a frosty evening just wasn't doing it for me. He tried his best to sway me, mentioning a very cool opening band called Gustaf. 

I passed.

He said, "Listen to Gustaf anyway." 

I did. 

I love Gustaf.

You may not, especially if you didn't get on the Wet Leg bus.

But let me say this in response to a few of the negative comments I've heard about the Wet Leg record.

You could agonize into the wee small hours writing lyrics, looking for the clever couplet that you hope will be received as brilliant. But lyrics don’t matter much without a hook. I don’t care how clever you are, or how big your vocabulary is, or how important your subject matter might be. The music needs to grab you too. 

I’ve had a number of conversations with friends, some who are musicians, and many of us agreed that most of the time, if the melody or sound of the record doesn't immediately strike, it won't matter what the song is about. Once you get over that first obstacle, a wonderful lyric is the cherry on the cake. 

Never underestimate the brilliance of a songwriter who does both. Often. And really well.

It's just that sometimes, I don't need it to be Cole Porter, Bob Dylan or Elvis Costello.

Sometimes, I just need a good record.

This is why I love Wet Leg. There's nothing important here. Nothing virtuosic. No vocal acrobatics or show-offy melismatics. The cleverness is found in the sound, in an oddball lyric, or a strange but sexy delivery of a line, or a subtle musical quote from a classic.  Wet Leg's debut, to my ears, sends this message, "We had fun making this record and we want you to have fun listening to it."

They made a great record. I can listen to "Hattie Carroll" later.

A comment on my original Wet Leg review said, "I’ll pass on Wet Leg. I don’t think a lady singing “suck my dick” is edgy." 

Fair enough. But what about the other 34 minutes and 54 seconds? 

Every song on Wet Leg's debut has a hook. Some have two and three. It's the most fun I've had listening to music in years. And from the wild popularity of the band, with people of all ages I might add, it might be the most fun many have had listening to music in years.

But I digress.

So what's the deal with Gustaf?

"Brooklyn-based art punk band."  

That's enough right there for me to never listen to a note of their music. "Brooklyn-based" is over used and it means nothing. "Brooklyn-based" means "we're not from Brooklyn, but we live nine to an apartment that fits three, in a neighborhood in Brooklyn that no one wanted to live in ten years ago." And there is no "Brooklyn sound." It isn't Liverpool or New Orleans. It's Brooklyn. So unless all your songs are about pizza, Kings Plaza, or telling people to go fuck themselves, "Brooklyn-based" means NOTHING other than, you're screwed because you rely on the L train to get home.

But I digress.

I listened for my friend.

On first pass I thought, this is The Slits without the reggae elements. It's post-punk, like Gang Of Four but not as heavy. Quick, sharp and smart, and occasionally smug. I hate smug. But fuck it. I am so tired of slogging through mediocrity, I'm giving a pass on smug if it sounds good.

Gustaf had my ears for the entire record. And here is the best part. I immediately played it a second time.

"Audio Drag For Ego Slobs" feels fresh. And exciting!

"Where are the melodies" you might ask this writer who has complained for years about new artists not writing memorable melodies. I hang my head. I can't defend myself. What Gustaf lacks in melody, they offer in hooks, style, beats and infectious guitars for 32 minutes. 

Not everything has to be traditional. Sometimes it just needs to sound good, and this one sounded great from top to tail.

What can I say? I fell for Gustaf immediately.

Your mileage may (will) vary.