Ben Lee is one of the great musical disappointments of my life. Because, quite frankly, Ben Lee is an a$$hole. I feel quite comfortable making this assertion because, since attending one of his rage-inducing live performances about three years ago, I’ve read numerous interviews with him and endured several late night talk show appearances, each of which has served as further proof of his essential a$$holeness.
Now, I went to that Ben Lee show fully expecting to fall in love (more on this later when I actually get to reviewing the album in question – first I must vent). Instead I developed an intense loathing which I will carry with me to the end of my days. First off, the show consisted solely of Ben and his guitar – potentially a great combination when the performer is someone with a winning personality or intensely beautiful songs (Elliott Smith and Mary Lou Lord are just two of the performers who have blown me away live with this sort of setup), but a complete disaster if the performer thinks he’s God’s gift to music or decides to take an adversarial approach to interacting with his/her audience (both of which little Benny did when I saw him). All his songs were given long-winded introductions (including one with faintly homophobic undertones), apparently intended to make the audience see how clever and popular he was, but which failed miserably. He sang the songs and strummed his guitar in this ludicrously self-consciously earnest, closed eyes (but I could see him peeking) sort of way, that I guess was supposed to make the ladies swoon but only made me want to laugh.
He berated the audience repeatedly for not dancing to his poor man’s folk rock, which is what it was since he was playing mainly newer songs from Something to Remember Me By rather than his loveable older material; I could have thrown a brick outside the club and probably hit someone who made more danceable music. Finally (and this is how you know you’re at a bad show), he attempted to do the rock star move of coming out to the audience to touch people’s hands and brighten their sad little lives (mind you, this was in a small club, not an arena, so the effect was very minimal anyway), and headed directly toward my group, whereupon we promptly turned tail and scurried away as fast as we could to avoid his touch. No thanks, Ben, but I’d rather not have my little life touched by you. (Apparently his then-(still?)girlfriend Claire Danes was also in the audience waiting to have her little life touched, so perhaps Benny was just showing off for her, but I get a sense from the way she speaks about him in interviews that she’s an enabler for his a$$hole tendencies.)
Now that I’ve spilled my bile, I’ll explain why this show was such a disappointment, since, as I mentioned, I had expected to fall in love. This album, Grandpaw Would, along with the even younger Ben’s work with Noise Addict, had convinced me that Ben Lee was, in fact, one of the most loveable people in the world. He was only thirteen when he started writing songs and recording them on his four-track with a few equally green pals and sending them out to indie labels. He was only a kid but got adopted by big-time crushes of mine like Steve Malkmus and Evan Dando. As you might expect from a teen, nearly all his early singles and albums displayed a sweet innocence, an unabashed yearning for love and pop stardom that made me want to bring him into my world and take care of him. He was little and cute and Australian, and at the time, I thought this was enough.
Grandpaw Would is the last record Ben Lee made before becoming a full-blown a$$hole (perhaps it’s the record that turned him into a full-blown a$$hole). It was his first solo attempt, his first record on the Beastie Boys’ Grand Royal, his first official collaboration with full-on indie stars like Liz Phair and The Spinanes’ Rebecca Gates. On Grandpaw Would producer Brad Wood and Ben smoothed out some of the rough edges of his earlier material and made it more commercially acceptable (perhaps this was the clue to what was to come). For the most part, it’s a great success, as the songs are still sweet and simple and innocent, but you can also hear little Benny growing up to tackle slightly more mature themes and arrangements. The songs are much fuller sounding than most of the Noise Addict stuff, but they still sound homemade and endearing.
Songs to fall in love with on this album include “Pop Queen” and “Away With the Pixies,” both of which namedrop alterna-gods The Pixies, and “Don’t Leave” – all have the slightly off-key singing, innocently romantic lyrics, and spare guitar strumming which are hallmarks of early Ben Lee. He does get his dander up on a few tracks, like the sneering “Pathetic” and “Frigid”, but his anger just makes you feel like tousling his hair for being so darn cute. Even when he’s mad, he still sounds like the kind of kid you wish had gone to your high school, rather than the tobacco chewers and Def Leppard worshippers who went to mine.
Grandpaw Would holds so much promise, that it’s still hard for me to believe that it was never fulfilled. I listen to this record, then remember my night with Ben, and I can hardly believe the same person is involved. It breaks my heart, I tell you.
If you’re going to buy a Ben Lee album, buy this or something by Noise Addict to support the sweet kid he once was. It’s too bad he had to grow up to be such a a$$hole.
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