The Vaselines
Enter the Vaselines
(Sub Pop)
Is it technically possible to love a band, to really love a
band, if it turns out you mostly only really need to listen to their
first two EPs? What if you’re totally, staggeringly in love with those
EPs (and a few other songs), though? This is the fly in the petroleum
jelly that I’ve been wrestling with since receiving Enter the
Vaselines, Sub Pop’s deluxe reissue of the Scottish band’s
collected recorded material, much of which was previously compiled as
The Way of the Vaselines. That album gathered the aforementioned
two EPs, Son of a Gun and Dying for It, as well as
full-length Dum-Dum; this release adds a second disc of demos
and live recordings, as well as a pair of extensive printed interviews,
conducted by Stephen McRobbie of the Pastels and former Stranger music editor Everett True.
Traditionally, the review of the deluxe reissue aims to tell you
whether the extra tracks and tacky badge are worth plunking down for
another physical copy of something you ought to already own (oh, don’t
tell me you don’t have The Way of the Vaselines).
But I didn’t even make it through disc one—the previously
released stuff—before discovering I only really needed, and was
totally satisfied with, just its amazing first half or so. I realize
that’s kind of heretical, and yet I still think of myself as a sincere
fan of the Vaselines.
This is because their best songs—”Son of a Gun,” “Molly’s
Lips,” “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam,” “Monsterpussy,” their cover of
Divine’s “You Think You’re a Man”—are simply indispensable,
perfectly loose and playful (and sexy) indie pop that gleefully smears
the lines between raunchy and twee. Is there a better way to start a
record than the grinding waves of distortion that give way to the sunny
guitar strumming and languorous, sing-song boy/girl vocals of “Son of a
Gun”? Jesus, I could listen to that chorus forever. “Molly’s Lips” and
“Monsterpussy” are like flip sides of the same coin—on the
former, Frances McKee sings airy and coy over typical rhythmic rumble
and guitar jangle and one perfectly, almost comically, timed quacking
trumpet that sounds more like a bicycle horn; on the latter, she’s an
appropriately aggressive animal, backed by fuzzed-out electric guitar
and countered by Eugene Kelly’s taxidermic threats. “Jesus Wants Me for
a Sunbeam” (yes, I first heard it via Nirvana: Unplugged, too),
with its melancholic melody, blasphemous humor, and reverberating but
weirdly flat strings, is, ironically, just heavenly. “You Think You’re
a Man” is an endlessly looping and repetitive Euro-disco taunt marked
by squishy guitars, Morse-code pulsing synths, and fey/horny
vocals—it’s brilliant, but I can never tell if it’s way too long
or way too short. And then there’s the rest of the disc, all of which
is fine, I guess, but none of which hits quite these same magnificent
heights.
As for that disc of added material: The highlights will be the
never-before-heard demos of “Son of a Gun,” “Rosary Job” (these guys
really liked John Waters), and “Red Poppy”—the demos are muffled
but bright, with McKee and Kelly backed by a drum machine. Also of
academic interest is the evolution evident between the two live
recordings, the first of which finds the band performing early material
backed by, again, only a drum machine, and the second of which sees
them performing as a full band—in that latter performance, the
band flubs and repeats “The Day I Was a Horse,” handling the situation
with typical wit, blaming the “cock up” on drummer Charlie Kelly having
“cancer of the drumstick” and suggesting that the audience pass a hat
to take up medical donations or, better yet, bring a drink to the
stage. It’s cute, and the bonus disc is worth hearing at least once,
but, duh, only the real, real, REAL Vaselines fans will need to
own it. (I’m still keeping my promo copy, though.) 
The Vaselines play Tues May 12, Neumos, 8 pm, $20, all ages. With
Hallways.