Spoon
Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga
Merge Records, 2007
By John Hastings
If you’ve never spooned, well, you’re a lonely soul indeed. If you’ve never Spoon-ed your ears, then I suggest you get off your ignorant ass and do it.
Let’s not draw comparisons to Spoon. They are as unlike other bands as their utensil counterparts are to knives, forks, and spatulas. Spoon simply is and Spoon simply rocks. Without further ado, let’s get down to their latest release Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga.
While in this humble reviewer’s opinion, no Spoon album will ever rival 2001’s Girls Can Tell, the latest effort from this Austin, Texas quartet is a nice addition to any record collection, and if you’re not a Spoon fan yet, you may as well start here and work your way backwards. The opening track “Don’t Make Me a Target” (which rumour has it was recorded for their previous release Gimme Fiction but eventually shelved) ranks with some of Spoon’s best efforts and sets the tone for an album that combines blues and jazz with the modern rock sound that makes this band so unique. If this isn’t “south” enough for you, then skip immediately to track five, “Rhythm & Soul,” where lead singer Britt Daniel reminds you that “the winter gets cold in ways you always forget/ Ah you know/ Mm-a-Rhythm and Soul…”
It’s classic and cool and stylish as hell with Spoon. Take track eight, entitled “My Little Japanese Cigarette Case,” which happens to be a standout, but is comprised of only the lyrics: “It’s just my Japanese cigarette case/ Bring a mirror to my face/ Let all my memories be gone.” Somehow Britt and company can elucidate so simply and beautifully a particular object or moment or time (see “Chicago at Night” from aforementioned Girls Can Tell) without expounding. There’s just so much happening in these lyrics and in the music itself. Take the “The Underdog,” a track that starts with some frantic strumming and progresses into a Beatles-style tune full of horns and clapping and a tambourine. Other standouts include “You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb,” “Don’t You Evah,” and “Finer Feelings.” Gem after gem inhabit Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga.
That being said, at least one of the tracks does fall a little short of genius. “The Ghost of You Lingers” appears second on the album and should probably have been relegated to the back of the pack since the previously mentioned opening track has the listener so engaged and this one is a muffled and (almost) boring tune. Despite this minor slip, Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga is an outstanding album from a band that deserves far more credit than they seem to receive. Spoon slides through Toronto every now and then, and if you can catch them live you’ll learn to love them even more.
Now, why don’t you go SPOON YOURSELF.
P.S. Spoon would be a welcome edition to my “Twelve Tracks of Summer,” which you can read along with my colleagues’ lists in our archives!
