Reunited and it feels so hmmm…
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[5.75]
Edward Okulicz: I’m immediately struck how vintage this sounds — Nina Gordon sounds pretty much exactly as she did in 1994, and this has a riff and a seethe comparable to first-album tracks “Number One Blind” and “Forsythia” respectively. I’m then struck by how this sort of formless pop-thrash was generally B-side level goofing off or blowing off steam. But I also used to devour their B-sides, and a low-key Record Store Day comeback is just the place to get it out of the system and test the waters to see if the parts still work together, and they do. The score reflects my visceral reaction to that more than an especially considered reaction to the song itself.
[7]
Katherine St Asaph: Maybe I watched 10 Things I Hate About You once too often (counterpoint: too often?), but within 10 seconds of sugared alt-rock I knew all critical objectivity was out the window. These sounds are hardwired into me, and so few make them anymore. (Believe me, I look almost every day. There’s Kay Hanley’s Weaponize, but that’s 2008 and also cheating. One spoonful of sugar and chord off is Cat Power’s “Free,” but she hated that song. I guess there’s Speedy Ortiz and their ilk, but I always get mad at the taste contortions that make people plug them and not The Dollyrots.) That it’s a knotty post-breakup song is better yet — about a real museum, even. I guess if there’s an issue it’s pacing — the buildup’s crucial, this doesn’t work at all in starts and stops, but it seems to be missing its 1:45-3:00. I can also promise you I won’t care in a day.
[7]
Ramzi Awn: Oh, Veruca Salt. The relic of lost love in “The Museum of Broken Relationships” hits far too close to home. The lyrics alone are a far cry from the lovelorn-infused haze on the band’s debut album, a one-hit wonder in the canon of grunge-pop. Although the lines “In the garden of rejection, the broken people go/There’s a hook where you can hang your heart, frame it on the wall, and let it go” are more than enough to sink the ship, it’s more than just a problem with words. The uber-stylized approach to what was once an effortless stab at clean alt-rock will kill your buzz to boot. These are the hardest kinds of broken relationships to get past — the ones that were oh-so-good to begin with.
[4]
Anthony Easton: Because it’s the Nirvana anniversary, and because of my recent trip to Seattle, I have been rethinking what grunge means. It’s mostly about the nature of pop, crafting a perfect pop chorus against the grind of guitars. The best grunge work is work that balanced the grind and the ebullience and shifted it into something gloriously political, and much of those politics were the result of the genre including women and queer folks in mostly equal numbers. It might be arguable if Veruca Salt was a grunge band — they came from Chicago (which had its own scene) and they might have started too late — but the aesthetic had significant overlap. Thinking about this in relation to Wild Flag’s “Romance,” which tightened and deepened already-extant aesthetics, this seems a bit less capable, and a bit more nostalgic for the sake of nostalgia. I guess I don’t know why they are getting back together, after all? That said, it’s a good example of the form, and, produced in 1997, a great one.
[6]
Alfred Soto: As an exercise in dynamics and pacing, this is close to perfect. Form meets content when the tempo change at the 90-second mark announced by “Jubilation/He loves me again,” and again when this bridge becomes a chorus. Now this is a seether.
[7]
Mallory O’Donnell: I’m afraid it’s a different museum we’re stuck in here. Starts off promising enough, with a rambling companionship between the bass and various percussion that’s good enough to make up for an awkward lyric. Then the chorus arrives and takes a nosedive into 90s nostalgia that’s simply too accurate to bear.
[4]
Thomas Inskeep: Much better than it has any right to be, this is a fine reminder that Veruca Salt were more (and better) than “Seether,” that they were actually a fine ’90s alt-rock band. Apparently the dream of the ’90s is still alive and well.
[6]
Megan Harrington: When I was in high school Television’s original line-up reformed and they played a handful of U.S. dates. I’m not sure if they were the first post/punk band to do this, but it was a big deal regardless and my dad got tickets for us to see them at Metro in Chicago. I was maybe 15 or 16, but I’d been to plenty of concerts, enough that I didn’t ever feel out of place even when I was. I remember looking around that club and seeing only middle aged white guys, and despite having no concept of mortality or rejection, feeling totally cowed and like a little girl. It was really unpleasant. As a consequence, I don’t enjoy reunions at all. I watched my Twitter timeline explode around seeing Veruca Salt play their hometown for the first time in almost two decades and I watched those tickets sell out. Nina Gordon means as much to me as the next Romantic former-suburban former-teenager, but I can’t bear the idea of looking around at a room full of me.
[5]