The barrier most listeners would seem to have with Sebadoh is a simple matter of their sometimes acerbic listenability. Like stout red wine or a scotch vintage so strong it’s hard on the throat without a chaser, the band was really best consumed in smaller doses. Whether it’s the feeling of opening the lid on a lot of songs in scraps, or the far-out sonic escapism, the band sometimes felt like a lot of little harsh nips to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop.
A new reissue of 1993’s Bubble And Scrape puts on display the last Sebadoh record with the craven Eric Gaffney, a contributor who seemed to put the A in aggro. When the 32-song re-release opens however, it opens with Barlow at his most sedate with “Soul And Fire,” one of the prettiest breakup songs in the lo-fi / indie rock catalog (try that box set on for size: Indie Breakup Anthems). It’s a simple song filled with clean electrics, and most importantly, it’s entirely accessible. While never a trait on The Freed Man or Weed Forestin’, both brilliant albums, access leads to the broader college rock appeal that Barlow would take with him through all future incarnations of his sound. The album rarely deviates from the distinctly plaintive Barlow. Sure, there is “Fantastic Disaster” and “Sister” interspersed within, but this is the forerunner to similarly pop and play records like Harmacy and Bake Sale that were at least mildly successful, if not commercial hits. It feels as though “Cliché,” a track set in the center of the twelve originals, becomes the quintessential Sebadoh song, if for no reason other than it shuns the savage riffs it opens with. Instead, it becomes a lovely, harmonious climbing anthem.
Beyond the original tracks, there are some nice moments (“Think (Let Tomorrow Bee)” and the dark “Reject”), but for the most part, the extras are an exercise in Sebadoh completeism. The musical precedent was 15 years ago, and it was set to advance a genre.
In the end, Sebadoh ages as among the most thoroughly modern bands to emerge from the ’90s alternative explosion—more that is cutting edge now imitates their sound than did then. The famous-when-dead refrain is emitted frequently from visionary artists, but it applies here. At the acme of the nor’easter that was Barlow and the boys was Bubble And Scrape, a place of cohesion, harmony, and a particularly rich musical font.
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