I'm With Stupid

     

In 1995, Aimee Mann released this minor classic that still evades mass appreciation for the staggering clarity of vision she possessed in releasing such an obviously self-assured statement on life.  Not necessarily the life outside your windows, but rather within.

[Yes, I actually did go AMA and cold turkey drop a med, resulting in an intense feeling of being energized, precisely what the aborted med was supposed to provide.  Sometimes, and usually without significant longevity, I have the ability to harness my thoughts and abilities together to see things differently, for lack of a better description. Things seem more naturally organized.  I have a better sense of things consequentially two or three steps down, as opposed to my typical myopia. I even get a spider-sense.

Just kidding there obviously.  At least on the "triple."  Anyway, when I'm clearheaded like this, when it's all pulled tight, nice and neat: it's a good feeling.  My life struggle has been to get that switch permanently left in the "ON" position.  The absence of that medicine feels like the switch is thrown.]

Without any prior provocation, I decided to listen to "Long Shot" tonight, the opening track of I'm With Stupid. It was three, seriously, three...three seconds before I knew I was going to sit down and immediately listen to the album play out.  There are not many albums that inspire that sort of allegiance from me.  I can't say the album is one of the ten best ever, or some other ludicrous title, but I can say it easily remains one of my ten favorite and most listened to.  Recorded in a manner that could just have easily been live, the playing is sharp and concise without being flashy, observational and intelligent without being confrontational.  Aimee Mann has been churning out smart, hooky pop ever since, but I've never felt that she topped this early apex.

Like many tracks on this album "Long Shot" has a great minimalist vibe.  For those of you new to the program, the term "minimalist," and its' application as music "axiom," and the subsequent discussion it spurred in the great, former forum and all-around hangout place, And Your Bird Can Swing, was apparently one of the final straws that broke Frank's back.  Blank Frank, who ran the joint without help, was a terrific guy; optimistic, warm-hearted and kind to a fault, it unfortunately caused Frank undue stress when members of the forum would snipe at each other publicly, which would obviously and invariably occur given enough time.  Anyway, none of that's important now.

"Long Shot" is what I mean by a recording that embodies the spirit of minimalism.  Perhaps our definitions differ, but at least you now understand my frame of reference. "Long Shot" is brazen, telling you immediately and often that "you [effed] it up."  Rhythmically urgent and chugging with a simmering tension brilliantly underscored by tambourine, the song resolves emotionally on the realization that "all that stuff I knew before just turned into 'please love me,'" an observation as emotionally intelligent and reflective of how life really unfolds as you will find anywhere. I'm With Stupid brims with many similar keen observations; Ms. Mann's emotional IQ is off the charts, a trait she has displayed regularly since Everything's Different Now, released in 1989 when she was 'Til Tuesday.  Interestingly, when performed live, Aimee often sings the penultimate line, "and all that stuff I knew before just turned into 'please love me'" an octave higher, wringing even more intensity out of that loaded observation..

"Choice In The Matter" is actually one of the few non-essential tracks in this collection, although it's fun to hear "merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream" replaced with "hope you drown and never come back" as the pairing to the "row, row, row your boat" couplet.  It's not that this is a bad song, it's just that it suffers in comparison to the handful of absolute gems liberally littered throughout this release.  The musical approach of this track is similar to that of its predecessor, and indeed the album as a whole stays true to this approach throughout the duration.  This album reflects the sound of an artist in a groove, hanging out there and playing in confidence.

"Sugarcoated" follows, and again, is somewhat underwhelming when compared to the album as a whole.  The rock solid musical foundation is still there, but overall the song lacks one of Aimee's trademark astute observations.

By the time the fourth track rolls around, newbies to the album may feel their commitment begin to wane after two relatively average numbers.  However, if they stick around, they are greeted with one of the albums great songs, and a reason to keep listening.  With "You Could Make A Killing," featuring great backing vocals by Juliana Hatfield, Mann hits her mark from the onset, noting that "there is nothing that competes with habit."  We all know the right thing to do, but we fall back to old habits.  I've lived that a dozen times and nearly as many ways.  Hatfield's supple background vocals so help this track that they forced me to seek out her own solo output.  I really haven't said much about the lyrical subject matter of this classic album, but being by Aimee Mann, you can probably guess, and you would guess correctly, that her sights are on the emotional dysfunction present in relationships either disintegrating or ripe for it.  This track is an absolute highlight.

"Superball" is the follow-up track, and while lyrically it's not as rich, musically it's a minimalist joy.  Clocking in at just over three minutes, "Superball" is the shortest track on the album.  It may be the sonic equivalent of pretty wrapping on a slight present, but it still sounds amazing, with John Sands primally pounding his kit with style as the song fades: brute force of the prettiest order.

"Amateur" again features stellar backing vocals by Juliana Hatfield, and just like the earlier "You Could Make A Killing," it's a stone cold classic in the dysfunctional pop pantheon.  "So I wasn't thinking clearly," Mann sings, "so you didn't think at all, I thought that was protocol."  Again, shes nails it, life to a "T."  People don't always make the best decisions, in fact they often live with decisions they know are shortsighted in some futile, misguided attempt to remain where they know they shouldn't be.  Relationships are always tough, especially when people wear blinders.

"All Over Now" signals the final non-essential track of this set.  It still sounds good, especially when it musically echoes the fade of "Superball" to great effect during its own fade.

"Par For The Course" is a nice simmering torch song which hinges on the realization that for many things in life, especially relationships, "timing is everything."

With "You're With Stupid Now," a near title-track, the album elevates itself with some amazingly strong content, and the final twenty-five minutes of this set are as strong and smart as any twenty-five minute shot of music you'd care to name.  The lyrics are typical great Mann lyrics, but what truly makes this one a classic is the aching intensity of her reading, nearly a duet with her producer and primary musical contributor, Jon Brion.  Many of the tracks on this CD require me to re-listen to them as soon as they end, and this song is no exception.  It's that good.

The one track people likely know from this set is next.  "That's Just What You Are" features exquisite backing vocals from the Squeeze boys, mixed among so damn many astute observations that you end up being jealous you didn't write this song yourself.  Once upon a time this track appeared on the soundtrack for Melrose Place.  Thank the fates for not having it remembered for that.  A complete tour de force, this track embodies everything that makes Aimee Mann's music desirable, with a wildly accessible mix of pop hooks and street smarts making it all but irresistible.

"Frankenstein" follows.  Calling it an oddity is tantamount to calling the sun bright, but it works.  Chris Difford and Glenn Tillbrook of Squeeze again provide impeccably good backing vocals, this time to a lighter song possibly placed here to provide a break from the heavier emotional material surrounding it.

"Ray" follows, and it's an amazing song.  Jon Brion wonderfully colors the music with tack piano as Aimee sings the most overt examination of a relationsplit on this album.  Zeroing in on the hurt and "coulda's" that surface, Mann examines her decisions, only to resign herself to futility "cause some things you know, and some you just believe in [and] hope it comes out even."  People play hunches, especially when it involves other people.  God bless the dreamer who goes after what is not guaranteed.  This track is easily a highlight, as beautiful as it is heartbreaking.

The album concludes with "It's Not Safe," an uplifting finish to an incredible work.  "A thousand compromises don't add up to a win."  No ma'am, they don't.

After a lengthy silence, a brief "Her Majesty" if you will, returns and echoes a lyric of the final track, "you're the idiot who keeps believing in love."

A tremendously gifted songwriter and multi-instrumentalist, Aimee Mann is the reason I have no respect for Britney Spears and the other pop-singer-as-whore dance performers of her ilk.  Next to Mann, they simply, embarrassingly, pale.

If you give this album ten spins, I can almost guarantee that you'll get to twenty without prodding from me.

My apologies if this reads rough, as I worked late into the night on it and didn't bother to indulge anything more than cursory proofing.

I'm With Stupid is a fantastic album: treat your self and get acquainted with it.  If you don't own a good copy, send me an e-mail and perhaps I can find where you can get a copy.  Is that in code enough?

Lastly, I offer a thank you to the many fine fellows I was able to "meet" and associate with at Frank's old place.  There's a few dozen of you and you know who you are.  It was your company and chat that kept me interested in the forum long after I did any real downloading from the place.  Even better is being able to keep those associations in the new post-forum era.  Friendship is not a "limited time offer."