Reinventing the wheel, Spoon are still not begging notice in the world of college rock. Instead, they're delivering an admirable if not earth-shattering effort with their fifth effort, Gimme Fiction. Born and bred in Austin, the band -- or at least its founding members -- emerged from Middle America’s bohemian way station only to be disparaged by their label. But, nearly a decade later, they actually sounds more comfortable in their skin. Reminiscent of post-Beatles melancholia, Gimme Fiction still exhibits the band’s remaining angst toward the music industry and the struggle to break into it. Spoon was relegated to musical limbo following an unceremonious dumping by Elektra Records following the release of 1998’s A Series of Sneaks, despite the effort's sizeable critical acclaim. But truth be told, the album sounded more like Bush -- Gavin, not George W. -- performing on the catwalk at Manhattan fashion soiree. Which is in itself an interesting yet cliché concept. Perhaps Elektra realized that the band, led by chief songwriters Britt Daniel on vocals and guitar and Jim Eno on drums, still had some growing up to do. A few toe-tapping ditties an album for the ages does not make. But, listening to Gimme Fiction, you soon get the idea that the thirst for immortality is not what fuels Spoon. Instead, the band offers an inclusive sound, making it the common-man’s de facto indie choice. Spoon has definitively rebounded under the tutelage of Merge Records. A door has opened, revealing the true talent that always existed, but was never truly cultivated or even given the time to take root. Gimme Fiction is about second chances, told by a hoarse storyteller, and picks up where the momentum of their 2002 breakthrough Kill the Moonlight left off. On “The Two Sides of Monsieur Valentine,” Daniels channels Cake and Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers gigging at a glam country-western bar, then follows that up with “I Turn My Camera On,” a vintage '70s Stones-like rocker with a disco swing, carrying along Daniel’s soprano like a newborn. Fiction's best track is “I Summon You,” a dust-and-hunger campfire jam. Daniel’s lyrics are haunting, describing a love made impossible by the daily grind of the road band. On most of the other songs, Daniels sounds like Lennon in his solo phase. “My Mathematical Mind” features a prominent piano before giving way to Daniels, who hoarsely sings “I wanna change your mind.” He does a pretty good job of it. Meanwhile, “The Delicate Place” is catchier than anything that starts off sounding like a song written by Poe. Spoon has indeed found that delicate, personal place to fall back into when things get too crazy. This is an album about both comfort and the testing of limits. Spoon might meander through Fiction's tracks as if they're searching for their place in the world. But it sounds like they’ve already found it. -- Ryan Gray |
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