The Gay Blades – Ghosts
"Ghosts"
05 May 2009, 09:00
| Written by Steve Lampiris
You will hate this album the first time that you spin it. I promise. While the instincts that let you know what’s garbage and what’s not are usually right, in the case of New Jersey wise-asses The Gay Blades and their new disc Ghosts they’re wrong. Dead wrong. No, each listen reveals a new reason to fall in love with this record. The production, the simple, yet understated arrangements, the song titles, whatever: They’re all grounds to play this over and over again.That said, Ghosts is all about singer/guitarist Clark Westfield. His Patton-like command over the listener (as well as the lyrics he sings) is rivaled only by veterans like Mick Jagger and Eddie Vedder. His ability to wail, croon, and howl above, within, and below the music gives the ‘Blades an added atmosphere that most bands playing post-punk-by-way-of-danceable-Fugazi lack. Honestly, it takes some real balls to actually deliver a line like “His eyes are blue and your eyes are blue and you’re the furthest thing from him/ But if you think you’re cool it’s more likely true that your friends wish you were dead” and know that you don’t have to wink at the audience in order for it work.With song titles like ‘Robots Can Fuck Your Shit Up’ and ‘Why Can’t I Grow a Beard?’ the band displays its ability to actually have humor right alongside its arrogance, however non-ironically ironic it may be ”“ if that makes any sense. Whether Westfield is comparing his life to a broken robot (‘Robots’) or his love life to a classic Pacino film (‘Dog Day Afternoon’), it all works purely because he believes that it can. But Westfield also exhibits his gift for summing up life in a brutally honest fashion: “I tried my best, but he’s proving love is effortless/ So I guess it must be something I’ve not done” and “You hate me, you’re crazy, you can’t live with me for all time/ ‘Cause it’s too fucking early for you to be songs I’d write.”A record like Ghosts will renew your faith in a band that actually matters, both musically and lyrically. Cherish this like your child because it ain’t plentiful anymore.
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