Oceania - The Smashing Pumpkins

Oceania

The Smashing Pumpkins

Martha’s Music.

SCQ Rating: 75%

In the uncertain summer between grade school and junior high, Siamese Dream became the first full-length I ever loved. From Side A through Side B and then back again, that cassette spawned an obsessive adoration in me that, almost twenty years later, feels naturally spread out across a few dozen bands that Skeleton Crew Quarterly faithfully covers. But in the mid 1990s, the Smashing Pumpkins were music – I didn’t care to know what else was out there – and they delivered on a seemingly biweekly basis. From Pisces Iscariot to Mellon Collie & the Infinite Sadness and then almost two years of singles loaded with quality B-sides, it was a fruitful time to follow Billy Corgan and Co.

So yes, I was one of those eager people hoping Oceania would turn the page on Corgan’s past-wrestling missives but my interest had less to do with warm nostalgia than it did with hearing a real, full-blooded rock album again. 2012 has failed to produce even a handful, making the timing of Corgan’s best album in a decade feel substantial on a wider critical plane. “Quasar” may open the disc sounding like a sludgier take on “Cherub Rock” but it feels vital nonetheless as the vast majority of Oceania embraces a unique sonic terrain permeated by classic-rock touches. Riff-heavy tracks like “Panopticon”, “Inkless” and “The Celestials” breathe convincing life into Alternative Rock’s dated framework, with dense layers of guitar and big choruses reigning. These examples are enough to regress the popular notion that Billy Corgan can’t write songs for the current age, but they merely hint at Oceania’s progressive edge. “One Diamond, One Heart” swings by the momentum of a bubbling keyboard coda while the title track undergoes a multi-song suite of acoustic balladry, warped synths and detailed percussion. The career-low shrieking of 2007’s Zeitgeist certainly didn’t have a “Pale Horse” or “Wildflower”, subdued songs drenched in relaxed yearning.

Taking into consideration the band’s underdog status since reforming (repeatedly) and becoming the counterpoint to independent music’s hipster trajectory, Oceania is a significant achievement. Not unlike other Pumpkins’ albums, it occasionally outstretches its means – letting a decent track like “Glissandra” fall between the cracks – but engages consistently enough to compete with whatever diluted shoegaze/electro band is making waves this week. Will Oceania ultimately change much beyond the Pumpkin universe? Probably not, but at the very least, it reinforces that Pumpkinland is fully operational and looking boldly toward the future.

11. Siamese Dream - The Smashing Pumpkins, 1993 (Best of the 90s)

Siamese Dream

The Smashing Pumpkins
Virgin Records.

Like any decade, the 90s could’ve gone several different ways and, as always, the swing vote came down to who died. Had Cobain lived to see 2009, who would our 90s-hero be? Many might ignore our collective fascination with young death/suicide and stick to their guns, yet Cobain’s survival springs to mind some key contenders: Vedder, Cornell, even Courtney Love (and that’s without diving back into the other deceased candidates: Bradley Nowell or Blind Melon guy, for starters). Above them all should be Billy Corgan, who introduced alternative music and even if it’s now defunct, it’s hardly irrelevant to today’s rock scene. As disgraced as the current “Smashing Pumpkins” are – and by Pumpkins and are, I mean Corgan and is – his brand of guitar-rock outlived both the figureheads of grunge (Nirvana) and its illegitamite offspring (Bush).

Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness became the elephant of any alternative-oriented conversation, either representing the scene’s best affirmation of commercial interests or playing the scapegoat of a genius’ selling-out. Yet few debates arise at the mention of Siamese Dream; an album that presented the Smashing Pumpkins at their pinnacle of talent while giving birth to Corgan’s now intolerable ego. The record catches the Chicago-based quartet in transition, still arming themselves with the heavy guitar-riffs of Gish (‘Quiet’) while branching into softer territory with highlights such as ‘Sweet, Sweet’ and ‘Spaceboy’. Most foreshadowing of Corgan’s later enthrallment with prog-rock narratives (remember ‘Glass and the Ghost Children’, anyone?) is ‘Silverfuck’, although this track is still goosebump-raising in its thunderous dynamics between muted distortion and sudden guitar-attacks. Siamese Dream remains the band’s most unified album, and while we can argue over whether Corgan played everything but the drums, or whether producer Butch Vig pulled the whole thing together, we can probably all agree that it should nominate the band for 90s-hero consideration.

5. Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness - The Smashing, 1995 Pumpkins (Best of the 90s)

Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness

The Smashing Pumpkins
Virgin Records.


Some day I might get back to this album. I’ll dig through Rubbermaid containers dedicated to records of the past, reminisce about teenage days I’d prefer to keep airtight, meaningless, and bring Mellon Collie… back from my parent’s basement for a real review. Lord knows it deserves some sort of status in my apartment album-hierarchy. This was the double-tape I treated like a leather-bound bible but wore through with repeated listens and broke anyway. A double-album I listened to nearly exclusively between 1995 and 1997, I recall each of the mammoth’s 28 songs at one point became my favourite… with the exception of ‘Take Me Down’, which I always found a kind of humorous exclusion (really… just one song?). Perhaps the only record I’ve ever purchased twice for myself, vindicating the broken cassette with the double CD. Some day I’ll try to review this… the most influential album of my adolescence.

American Gothic EP - The Smashing Pumpkins

American Gothic EP

The Smashing Pumpkins
Reprise Records.

SCQ Rating: 74%

Venues selling out in minutes, ‘Tarantula’ on alt-rock rotation every half hour, the shroud of mystery over whether James and Darcy would show up, and that hideous Statue of Liberty drowning on posters all over city walkways; yes, the summer of 2007 will stand in the Fanboy Book of 90s Idols as the terrifically-hyped return of the Smashing Pumpkins. Yet despite such ardent Zeitgeist profiteering, the palpable storm of media attention backfired: the record was underwhelming by Pumpkin standards and by the end of August, a summers-worth of expectation had thinned embarrassingly. So less than a year later, it seems that the infamously narcissistic Billy Corgan may be eating some humble pie with the fresh and subdued American Gothic EP.

Contrary to the smothering promotional efforts of Zeitgeist, I discovered this new release carelessly filed in the Elliott Smith section. Likewise, I’ve found few reviews or reference-points to this EP online (perhaps this is because American Gothic is unavailable to the USA in physical format). Whatever the reason is for this under-the-rug release method, it’s as wisely unassuming as the material itself; American Gothic is, despite its 17 minute running length, a sprawling open-strum of backyard guitar odes that answer the call of many fans who berated Zeitgeist for lacking a sensitive side. From the opening acoustic tumble of ‘The Rose Parade’, we’re reunited with a strain of Billy Corgan songwriting that hasn’t been heard since Zwan’s Mary Star of the Sea, or in the SP catalogue, Adore; a melancholic, folk that chastises the needless effects that Corgan is known to submerge songs in. When he asks “Can’t you see me at all?”, it’s sung honestly, without the whiny bellyache that sunk much of a certain solo album. ‘Again, Again, Again’ follows, proudly-paced by Chamberlain’s unmistakable drum-work, and builds into a restrained but addictive chorus that manages to evoke a passion and romanticism out of Billy that has been long absent.

When American Gothic debuted on I-Tunes in January, Corgan spoke lovingly of these song’s origins (most of which written before or during Zeitgeist) and how he opted to record them during a tour-break in the fall of 2007. His decision, at first, sounds misguided when you consider how badly their last album could’ve used these songs to loosen that Sabbath noose and offer a greater range of songcraft. The more I listen to American Gothic, however, the more I understand Corgan’s choice to keep each release focused; difference is, where Zeitgeist’s focal point proved its undoing, the lack of variety here works (in fact, the more aggressive ‘Pox’ is the least affecting here).

If the purposefully garish arena-rock of the last Pumpkins album felt too cumbersome, I urge all waning fans to seek out its opposite; a curving song-cycle of romantic notions that are as rustic and bare as the railroad-stitched plains that adorn the EP’s sleeves. Although these songs pale in comparison to the best of the Pumpkins’ softer material (Mellon Collie...’s second half, the Tonight, Tonight EP), American Gothic is the best SP material I’ve heard since the 90s and a modest redemption for those of us who were ready to walk away.

Zeitgeist - Smashing Pumpkins

Zeitgeist

Smashing Pumpkins
Warner Music


SCQ Rating: 63%

The year 2000 was a very long time ago. So long, in fact, that I can’t blame most people for losing track of what Machina actually sounded like. Even I, a once massive Smashing Pumpkin fan who collected every import and b-side available, had to reach into memory to recall the wall of sound synths and Black Sabbath tributes which collected the mundane gist of the Pumpkin’s sixth and thought-to-be last record together. Well, it was and it wasn’t – make no mistake, the absence of James and Darcy officially make Zeitgeist a product of Smashing Pumpkins version2.0 – but to make my case against the paint-by-number critics who all made quick comparisons: this sounds as much like Machina as Machina sounded like Gish.

Say what you will about the discography of the Smashing Pumpkins (first generation, circa 1989 through 2000), even the most steadfast Pumpkin-haters had to at least surrender some understanding of why they were so popular. Even Machina, for all its obvious weaknesses, held a pocketful of excellent songs to add to the SP catalog (Stand Inside Your Love and Try, Try, Try), and Zeitgeist is no different in that respect. Anyone who enjoyed Siamese Dream can feel a nostalgic softening when listening to Chamberlain’s percussive talents in the opener ‘Doomsday Clock’, and rock radio around the world would be deaf to exclude ‘That’s the Way (My Love Is)’ from the same airwaves that welcomed ‘1979’ so whole-heartedly. These examples, as well as the massive hit ‘Tarantula’ prove that Corgan remains capable of writing hit songs and channeling his inner talent through such a preposterous ego. However, that doesn’t mean that Zeitgeist isn’t the Smashing Pumpkins’ least interesting album.

When news of the SP reunion dropped jaws all over the western front, I recall feeling confident that the band could move forward, unfettered by the absence of James Iha and Darcy. And while I still believe BC and JC (as they refer to themselves of late) are the most essential contributors to the Pumpkin sound, the lack of depth in much of Zeitgeist offers a healthy difference in opinion. Gone are the soft and hazy ballads, the psychedelic instrumentals, the androgynous anger that crowned them kings of a genre as carelessly titled as Alternative. In fact, the most exciting moments I found on this record were the seconds I heard the introduction of tinkering piano or, basically, any instrument that isn’t a guitar. While these moments are extremely rare over the course of the album’s 52 minutes, they do offer a hint of atmosphere to songs like ‘Neverlost’ and ‘For God and Country’, which are all the better for it than ‘(Come On) Let’s Go!’; a brainless rocker which, sadly, gives away all the lyrical content with its title.

Aiming to make a rock record and succeeding is easily the band’s least ambitious statement so far, and with lousy album art and grade-eight caliber lyrics, you might find yourself disappointed as often as you are surprised. Best to keep this in mind: Machina was no Abbey Road and Zeitgeist does little to destroy the SP legacy. It’s better than it could’ve been, and that is better than nothing.