The Get Up Kids/Coalesce - Split 7in (1997)
This record is rather special to me, it was the first piece of vinyl that I procured, and to this day, is still one of my favorite pieces of wax. I can still remember when I bought it. Years and years and years ago at an old suburban record store some of you Chicagoans may remember before it moved, Record Breakers. As a young and impressionable teenager, this place was my mecca. I would take weekly pilgrimages to it to scour through it's seemingly endless supply of music. And I remember buying this record, thinking, "Well, Mom and Dad own one of those things that plays these, and its just collecting dust....so.... why not?". And the vinyl addiction started.
I won't go to describe at great lengths how vital these bands and this split were to me, but something does need to be said. The Get Up Kids were one of the first independent bands I ever got into, thanks to an older brother. The first time I heard Four Minute Mile I was hooked, it was the pinnacle of that Midwestern 90's emo/indie sound that I am still fond of. And Coalesce. While most hardcore hipsters I know don't like this band (maybe a generational gap, or, maybe they just weren't considered "in" or "cool" when they got around to them), I thought they were groundbreaking. Abrasive, dissonant, and just flat out heavy.
Now, the cool thing about this split, what makes it exceptional, is the theme. Both bands took a song of the others and covered it, and these two songs make up a side of the split each. These bands are on complete opposite ends of the spectrum, sonically. The Get Up Kids version of "Burning Bridges" is a wonderful version of the original song. Matt Pryor's voice channels wonderfully over the normally distorted, yet odd time signature guitar chords. But the real showstopper is Coalesce's song. I can't remember what I expected to hear when the guitar first started playing that familiar song. The song almost tricks you with the opening, sounding exactly the same, save for this evil atmosphere in the background, and then it explodes. Ingram's howl is the only constant over a sea of chaotic noise. They tear the song apart, only to pummel through a familiar chorus. It blew my mind. Especially when they trade the bridge of the original song in for a chugging breakdown complete with the hand claps. I still don't know how the band did it.
There are also few bands that fully utilize the 7.25 square inch sleeve of the record. While most bands of this day were dabbling in early design, with weird fonts and color schemes, or appropriating a photograph for their needs, they went a different route. We have a design/layout/sculpture piece credited by a man named Daniel Dennis Askew Jr. He must have heard and understood the record, because the music translates directly through to the cover. The music is dissonant and erie, and the same can be said for the rusty fork and teeth sculpture. It isn't something that is supposed to entice someone to buy the music, it's supposed make the viewer feel uneasy, anxiety, much like the music. Plus, that horrible yellow font color for the band's name, how 90's can it get?
Editor's note: A download link for these features will not be available. This is a pure critique of the material object and music itself. For those interested in listening, just use google, or better, find the actual record. Thanks.
2 comments:
I got that fa'sho. Also came out in about a million color variants. If I remember correctly, I bought it while you were standing next to me. You had better tastes then, but I have better tastes now as I listen to obscure electronic music.
Heh yeah, my taste in music has gone off the deep end. It's all Rebecca Black and Milli Vanilli these days.
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