Harvey Danger - Where Have All The Merrymakers Gone?

Some albums just grab you by the hair and shake your head around within the first few seconds of the lead track. Such is the case with Harvey Danger’s debut, which blasts into existence with a sub-three minute radio-melting air attack called "Carlotta Valdez." Any band who namechecks James Stewart and Kim Novak has to be worth some time in your heart, obviously, and you know immediately there’s a sharp mind at work behind the coffee stained, cigarette burned lyric sheet. Musically "Carlotta Valdez" brings to mind images of the Blue Aeroplanes at their finest running all over the stage and torching their guitarist for kicks whilst Hitchcock’s Vertigo plays too fast on a screen behind them. Way to burn.

Vocalist Sean Nelson is without a doubt the focal point of Harvey Danger, live and on record. Based on Where have All The Merrymakers Gone? someday in the future he will be up to his shoulders in ribbon-bound poetry books, fan letters written in blood and lipstick smeared polaroids from obsessive teenage boys and girls. Hell, make that twentysomething boys and girls too.

Just like all the best angst Gods, Nelson knows that pure miserablism doesn’t have the same impact as when it’s spiked with self-effacing humor. Every single track is loaded with clever-clever lyrics that actually work, genuine enough to rise above any accusations of pretension, from the culture sideswipe of "Flagpole Sitta"’s "I want to publish zines, and rage against machines" to the bitter love spit of a line like "You complain about that overflowing cup, don’t forget that I’m the one who filled that fucker up" from the smoldering "Terminal Annex."

Emotional and musical punch combined, it’s reassuring in a way to hear a band taking this much care and showing so much attention to detail to their art. Detail, detail, detail. The handclaps at the start of "Jack The Lion," the surprise female vocals on "Old Hat," the ba-ba-ba backing on the snowballing "Flagpole Sitta," the deliberate stutter on "Woolly Muffler," brown paper packages tied up with string, these are a few of my favorite things.

All the best dramatic albums have a touchstone song, an agoraphobic magnum opus of a piece that stirs up so much personal passion it stains your psyche. Where Have All The Merry Makers Gone? has two. Firstly, "Wrecking Ball," a creeping, crawling journey into the dark places you like to keep compacted. Unobtrusive, almost hidden violins give a mournful coating to the song as the bass stumbles along, practically sighing, and guitars squeal far in the distance. Dusty watches and long-lost memories tumble from Nelson’s mouth and the whole thing is sepia toned like an antique photograph. Evocative. As is final track "Radio Silence" which starts tiny and builds up to a fuzzy drawn out mantra of scuffing power chords and loud-but-clear uncracked vocals, twisting slowly skywards and disappearing in a flash, leaving the listener in a suddenly darkened room, cold and lonely. Imagine your girlfriend just packed her bags and left you. "Radio Silence" is the sound in your head as she closes the door behind her leaving nothing but a trail of perfume.

Email Reef Valmont

Incredible Harvey Danger Pix!

Harvey Danger live at the Crocodile Cafe, 8/14/99

Comix

Humor

Features

Reviews

Columns

Classifieds

Home