w/Elbow, Starlight Mints
Fri Oct 17, Showbox, 8 pm, $15 adv/$17 DOS.
Grandaddy guitarist Jim Fairchild is laughing hard as he says, "We're going to have to write that one on the studio wall." Over the phone I hear a pen cap pop off, and Fairchild's voice belies a slight body strain as he obviously reaches out to do just that. We'd been discussing the mixed reviews for Grandaddy's third full-length, Sumday, an album that initially confused many fans because what was once gloriously complicated in style is now gloriously exuberant. "A good friend of ours who lives in Dallas just told me he gave the album a couple of listens and at first didn't think much of it," recounts Fairchild. "He said, 'You know, Jim, I'll be honest with you. I didn't really get Sumday until about a month ago.' He'd had a copy of the record since February, and he totally admitted that it took him four or five months to figure out what was going on. Now he says that it's his favorite Grandaddy record out of all of them. I don't mind that at all. I think it's pretty neat that there's something that's drawing people back to it. I think it's great when any record does that--you're not really sure why, but eventually it paints a clearer picture, and it becomes obvious to you once you get back to it." I tell him I found the album instantly lovable, concluding that makes it a shower and a grower. That's what gets Fairchild laughing so hard. "Well said," he pronounces, and on the wall it goes.
Because of its spring 2003 release, Sumday felt perfectly timed. Opening track "Now It's On," with its cobweb-sweeping lyrics--"Bust the lock off the front door/Once you're out you won't want to hide anymore"--felt like the brightness it spoke of. Each spring a particular album grabs me by the ears and aurally kicks me in the solar plexus, forcing out the stale winter so I can suck in a chest full of fresh air. This year, Sumday got me going with all the rush of an ELO record (the ELO song "Mr. Blue Sky," to be exact). When I tell him that, Fairchild seems in accord. "I love that feeling, that's what music should do. It should be able to transport you to a place that you're not familiar with in your everyday life. That's what I get out of it and that's what I look forward to in music."
Fans whose love of the band is fed by the off-kilter charm of Jason Lytle's songs may feel oddly jilted themselves by the quick pace of Sumday, even though the lyric "It seems that I'm seasoned to be in the season of the old me" (again, "Now It's On") is a perfect tribute to their dedication. "The previous albums definitely had more depth and the songs typically aren't the type that grabs the listener," says Fairchild. "That [Sumday] starts off happy and the songs are shorter could throw some fans off for sure." However, the guitarist sees it as a sign of growth. "It all seems like a natural progression to me," he explains, "and those elements have always been intact, you can hear it in 'A.M. 180' and 'Summer Here Kids.' A lot of the songs that Jason wrote wound up being that way, so there was less necessity for a sprawling record this time.
"I can definitely see the personalization of Grandaddy and I know there are people who like the Sumday version of Grandaddy or Sophtware Slump version of Grandaddy, and there are some people who think we should only do 10-minute songs like 'He's Simple, He's Dumb, He's the Pilot.' It can kind of piss you off when someone comments with a little bit of candor, 'Why is this new record so happy?' or, 'Why are the songs so short?' But at the same time those criticisms can be intriguing, because there's nothing wrong with being confounding. As a musician I really look forward to bands like Super Furry Animals and Wilco, who continue to surprise me with every single album."
Whether or not the ardor is immediate, it's obvious that Sumday eventually burrows its way in somehow. How could it not with the billowing scope of "Lost on Yer Merry Way," and the blithe, keyboard-driven bounce of "Stray Dog and the Chocolate Shake"? And the piano scales and acoustic strum of "O.K. with My Decay" clock in at over six minutes, so there you go. Just sign on and sing along with Lytle as he, too, acquiesces, "I have no choice/so now rejoice."
