With new music showing a decided predilection towards all things retro, in the hunt for inspiration, today’s musicians are fervently mining the sounds that belong to the pre-21st century. And why not – after all, we have the 1990s to thank for the development of grunge, the birth of Britpop, the emergence of electronica, and house; in short, it was a decade that formed a fertile sonic breeding ground.
For evidence of this golden period, one can look back to a time precisely 20 years ago. Within the decade of the 90s, 1994 in particular has come to be associated with a crop of now-classic albums. It was a year that marked the genesis of such seminal records as Oasis’s Definitely Maybe, Blur’s Parklife, Nirvana’s MTV Unplugged In New York, Portishead’s Dummy, and Jeff Buckley’s Grace.
Amongst these iconic acts was another group who, by 1994, had certainly established themselves as reliable purveyors of indie rock.
Sebadoh was the band that singer/songwriter/guitarist Lou Barlow co-founded back in 1986, and was the antidote to his former band, Dinosaur Jr. Barlow was unceremoniously relieved of his Dinosaur Jr bass-playing duties in 1988 after falling out with frontman J Mascis, and in the years that followed, Sebadoh released a steady stream of mostly self-recorded albums, and accumulated a loyal following of fans in the process.
Yet among the instantly recognisable records spawned in 1994, Sebadoh’s album from that year, Bakesale, has been long regarded as something of a minor classic. Comprised mostly of short bursts of power-chord pop punk and a few slower, earnest heartbreakers, it may not have had the commercial pulling power of its contemporaries, but Bakesale is a quiet achiever. It is one of the albums from the 90s pantheon that is often erroneously overlooked – due, perhaps, to its uncontrived, unembellished aesthetic.
It’s clear that the unassuming nature of the record is rooted in the attitude of the band itself. Bakesale was their fifth release, and by 1994 the group had already been together for almost eight years, yet according to Barlow, there was no sense of pressure around Bakesale being a ‘make or break’ album.
“We were just doing our thing,” frontman Barlow modestly recounts. “We were a band of the moment…and in that sweet spot of being able to do almost no wrong for our circle of peers. There were detractors for every record but, in general, people were on our side.”
“We were a band of the moment…and in that sweet spot of being able to do almost no wrong for our circle of peers”“We were barely aware of how long we had been a band,” he continues. “That was never a concern…we weren’t trying to make it in any traditional sense.”
However, despite the group already having some years behind them, at the time of recording Bakesale Sebadoh were also adjusting to a changing lineup.
The guitarist and co-founder Eric Gaffney had left the band in the period between 1993’s Bubble And Scrape and Bakesale, a move that was bound to have some effect on the writing and recording of the latter.
“Eric wasn’t happy so when he left the mood lifted tremendously,” Barlow recalls frankly.
“I personally find the Sebadoh records Eric is a part of more interesting, challenging, and ultimately ‘better’, but when he left he took a lot of negativity with him and we experienced a huge burst in energy and efficiency because of that.”
In fact, the loss of the drummer may have even been something of a blessing in disguise. Gaffney’s departure allowed Jason Loewenstein to step up and make his contribution to the group’s songwriting, and according to Barlow, this new dynamic lent a unique strength to the Bakesale album.
“I thought Jason’s songs were particularly great,” states the singer. “We lost Eric as a primary songwriter and Jason stepped up with some beautiful songs.”
“Jason’s songwriting was more similar to my own than Eric’s, so the back and forth between our songs was less jarring for people. We made a record that was easier for an average listener to make it through and thus ‘stronger’.”
“Eric wasn’t happy so when he left the mood lifted tremendously”This ease of listening was certainly picked up on by critics at the time, many of whom described the musicianship on Bakesale as tighter than on the group’s previous records. Does Barlow agree with this assessment?
“I can say that it is far simpler, instrumentally, and less ambitious than the preceding record, Bubble And Scrape…we streamlined the sound of the band significantly with the loss of Eric Gaffney as a drummer (although he does play on four Bakesale songs) by accepting Bob Fay as a full time drummer. We had to play to Bob’s limitations which, at the time, seemed like the perfect thing to do.”
“I was obsessed with mid-60s garage music, rock music before prog, and the elements that became classic rock. The simplicity of bands like The Troggs impressed me and when I brought my new songs to Bob, I focused on the most basic delivery of the songs, which would make it seem tighter, I guess.”
The recording process also played a part in the group’s more cohesive sound. Sebadoh’s music is characterised by their lo-fi, DIY aesthetic, but as Barlow explains, “We also recorded 80% of the record in the same studio, so there is a textural uniformity to it that we had actively avoided before…our previous records were chaotic in comparison.”
This is not to say, however, that the secret to Bakesale’s success was in the ironing out of the band’s idiosyncrasies into a more commercially palatable sound. It is arguably those very wrinkles and creases that make Sebadoh’s music so endearing, and Barlow is quick to note that there was no deliberate effort to create a more polished sound with Bakesale.
“I was having an excellent run at Fort Apache Studios (a recording studio in New England)…Dinosaur Jr had done Bug there (and) Sebadoh did Sebadoh III there.”
“I had brought a lot of four-track projects there for final mix-downs and felt that they understood me. If I wanted something to be rough it stayed rough, if I wanted to add a touch of higher fidelity, they had the means to make that happen,” he relates.
“Being lo-fi was never a particular goal of mine, I just like things that feel natural,” Barlow adds.
This ingenuous approach also extended to the writing of the record. When asked how long the album took to write and record, he describes it as “a matter of days, maybe a week all told.”
“Songs write themselves over periods of time that I never keep track of,” he continues.
“For instance, the riff on ‘Rebound’ came to me at least a year beforehand, but I wouldn’t say it took a year to write.”
Although the process of creating Bakesale may have been simple in a sense, Barlow points out that there was still a considered approach to his songwriting.
“I don’t know if I can characterise anything I’ve done as effortless,” he says.
“I spend the time to find the right words for my songs…that feel good to sing, literally how they feel on my tongue, and have enough truth in them to make them memorable.”
The collection is indeed a record of truth. Each track abounds with an emotional honesty that cuts through to the listener, even when the sombre lyrics are balanced by the record’s overdrive-coated guitars (like on the moody ‘Not Too Amused’) and the energetic, up-tempo rhythms (as on the infectious ‘Rebound’).
“Songs write themselves over periods of time that I never keep track of”The pace of ‘Rebound’ belies the inherent fragility of the lyrics, which hint at a sense of self-criticism (“I’m no one you can trust”, Barlow sings plaintively) and self-doubt (“Confusion turns me upside down/Lost as quickly as I’m found”).
Likewise, there’s a feeling of quiet despair amidst the simple chords and ambling bass of ‘Together Or Alone’ as the faint vocals lament, “These unsure hands could never soothe you/too afraid of doing something wrong”. Judging from the frankness of Bakesale’s lyrical content, was Barlow in a self-critical period at that point in his life?
“I’m in a perpetually self-critical point in my life…I’m fine tuning how I actually use that perspective, but I’m always in a place where I question myself and am trying to move towards a more honest place.”
Again, it’s clear that honesty is a key component of Sebadoh’s output. “Definitive language in songs like ‘I will never let you down’ (or) ‘our love will last forever’ is incredibly manipulative and dishonest…people who say that kind of stuff publicly are not to be trusted!” the musician exclaims.
But did the songwriter find it difficult to be so soul-baring, or is that just how he feels comfortable writing?
“I think my songs are incredibly general so I don’t feel exposed at all,” he reasons.
“The emotions I’m expressing are commonplace…I don’t mention names or details…they are no more confessional than your average country song.”
“I’d find it more embarrassing to try to hide behind metaphors or ironic posturing. That’s far safer and less interesting in retrospect,” he muses.
He may not mention names or details in the songs, but Bakesale is not without its share of vitriol, and Barlow doesn’t beat around the bush when asked just who he was directing his anger at when he sings the immortal line, “Feels good/just to bitch about it “on ‘Magnet’s Coil’.
“Eric Gaffney,” he answers bluntly.
“Maybe your friends and family are different but mine spend a lot of time discussing the difficulties they are having with friends and family…it’s part of working through things and, more often than not, finding better ways of communicating,” he continues.
“Bitching is a part of life, as I know it, but it’s not necessarily a negative thing.”
“I’d find it more embarrassing to try to hide behind metaphors or ironic posturing”So are the more melancholy songs on the album, like ‘Not A Friend’ and ‘Dreams’, about anything or anyone specific?
“Sure. ’Not A Friend’ definitely…and, since it’s not Eric Gaffney or J Mascis, I’m never going to tell who it’s about.”
“’Dreams’ is a goofy song about dreams…specifically mentioning dreams I had had about getting to shows late or the frustration of a garden variety stress dream…that song is difficult for me to play now because it is so goofy,” the singer admits.
This leads to another question about how Barlow contextualises Bakesale in the present day. The Sebadoh frontman was in his late twenties when the album was released; is he still able to relate to the sentiments he was expressing on the album back in 1994?
“I think the songs are plainspoken and truthful…which characterises lots of my favorite songs by other artists and I don’t grow out of songs I like, generally,” Barlow notes.
“I’ve always tried to write from somewhere outside and above what I’m feeling in order to understand and gain perspective…what I mean by that is, I don’t hear the songs on Bakesale and hear the whining of a younger version of me. I hear myself in a good spot.”
“And the melodies are decent,” he adds.
In this simple statement, the frontman might have well summed up what it is about Bakesale that has cemented the record as one of the 90s most understated, enduring collections. The straightforward, heartfelt clarity of the lyrics, coupled with tunes, are catchy, rocking, and a little rough around the edges. In typical Sebadoh fashion, it’s an uncomplicated formula, but one that has produced an album that is clearly close to Barlow’s heart, even after 20 years has passed.
“The Bakesale songs are among the factors that inspired us to do a new record…they almost always feel perfect.”
Sebadoh’s latest album Defend Yourself is out now via iTunes
