"If a man can't say what he wants in twelve lines or less, then he probably shouldn't say it at all..." --Ezra Pound
The aural equivalent of Mr. Pound's oft-quoted phrase, I think, would probably include an exhortation to use the fewest (musical) notes possible. After all, if a man can't get by with three chords and the truth, he probably shouldn't be up onstage with Bono, schmoozing with Keef afterwards and then, as a result of said activities, enrolling in a twelve-step program with Mr. Townsend.
As Tom Petty once sang, don't come around here no more.
Add to this grand tradition of "less is more" the members of Bedhead, the now defunct Texas band led by the brothers Kadane, Matt and Bubba (Don’t judge, remember, they’re from Texas). Although Bedhead rarely hit the stage with merely three chords and the truth (sorry, Bono), their sound and image was deeply rooted in the refreshingly novel belief that simple music can be marvelously complex, if musicians so desire. This album, their second full-length release, serves to confirm that statement. Eerily quiet and achingly beautiful, "Beheaded" is the band's greatest moment, their masterwork.
And I'm not just saying that so they'll lift the restraining order (thanks, Magnet).
Blatant brown-nosing aside, "Beheaded" (the album’s title and first song) begins slowly, a single guitar playing. In the distance, an amplifier feeds back. Moments later, Matt begins to sing, his voice calm, despite expressing uncertainty:
I don’t know if it’s worth it,
I don’t know if I should keep trying,
when most signs point to giving up…
If there was someone to take advice from,
would he say give up?
Slowly but surely, the rest of the band joins in the fray. First, the second guitar, then drums and finally, third guitar. Yes, Bedhead employs a three-guitar attack. Amazing, since its sound (initially) appears so sparse, but fear not, fair reader, for second and third listens reveal a more complex arrangement. After all else, what sounds like a xylophone enters the soundscape, providing a very minimal, but striking, accompaniment to the three guitars. The music ends as slowly as it begins, and band begins its second piece, “Rest of the Day.”
Unlike it predecessor, “Rest of the Day” starts with vaguely country lick, a loping guitar sound and cymbal-laden drum accompaniment that quickly morphs into more straightforward (for Bedhead, anyway) riff, minus vocals. Bedhead returns to their original countrified lick, followed by their straightforward bridge, then breaks ranks by briefly playing what will be the song’s leitmotif, a series of notes that, if nothing else, showcases the band’s unbelievable ability at layering music, adding guitars, bass, chimes and finally drums so as to create an emotional build-up that cannot be ignored. Rarely have eighth notes (I believe) sounded so beautiful, or complex.
The next song that really captured my attention (I’m writing this from memory, so forgive me if I don’t conduct a song-by-song analysis of “Beheaded”) is the album’s fifth track, “Smoke.” Unlike other songs on the album, “Smoke” begins with ascending chords, a sharp counterpoint to the lyrical images produced by Matt and Bubba:
From where I am I can smell the smoke,
burning something I don’t know.
Should I sit here and wait,
and hope it burns the other way?
Also surprising, Bubba begins singing right away, without letting his bandmates create any sort of atmosphere. Rarely do Bedhead allow this to happen, so when it does (on this album, “Smoke” and “Roman Candle,” and on Transmission de Novo, the wonderfully bleak, “More Than Ever”) you have to enjoy it.
But enough of my pontificating. Buy this album. You may not be impressed after the first listen, but give it a few times. I read somewhere that lasting albums (or anything for that matter) usually aren’t instantly likeable. To wit, Iggy Pop has let it be known that, at first listen, he hated the Velvet Underground and Nico (“pretentious hippie bullsh*t,” is what he called it, I believe). After time, he came to appreciate the record for what it was, groundbreaking music.
You may soon be saying the same thing of “Beheaded.”
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