I generally try to group music listeners into one of two categories. The first category is for those people who just enjoy music, who listen to music, and just see music as what it is. Music. This category doesn’t analyze, doesn’t attempt to classify what they like, and are generally more passive listeners. The second group is the group that music critics fall into, much like the aspiring writers here on Epinions. This category attempts to analyze everything, to understand the minute little intricacies, and to figure out why exactly something is good. Of course, this task is extremely difficult seeing as how the word “good” in and of itself is a relative term that different people apply in different ways.

The goal for the majority of music critics - and I like to include myself in this category - is to attempt to be critical, while also maintaining the human element that actually makes music likeable. Few critics, it seems, are able to straddle this fence adequately, and the result is either an overly simplistic, pointless written statement, or an overly harsh, robotic approach that is critical of absolutely every little detail. And frankly, both sides of the coin are extremely hard to read and difficult to stomach. What I guess I’m trying to say is that for a music writer to be successful, they have to able to look at music not only analytically, but also from a human perspective as well - because there’s always the possibility that a record is good, despite the fact that the critic’s sense in you may say otherwise. This is exactly the case with Everclear’s 1997 album, So Much For The Afterglow.

Everclear was the brainchild of one Art Alexakis, a Californian youth raised in a lower class Santa Monica home by single mother. Both his brother and girlfriend died as a result of drug overdoses, encouraging the young Alexakis to break his own cocaine habit and do something with his life. The result of that newfound ambition was the creation of a band - first a San Fransisco group Colorfinger, and eventually Everclear, whom Alexakis formed with bandmates Scott Cuthbert (drums) and Craig Montoya (bass). Greg Eklund has since taken over the duties behind the drum kit, but the basic concept remains the same, a grungy, alternative power-pop trio.

The group toured religously and gained a small cult following with the 1995 independent release of World Of Noise, a typical exercise in indie-style rock. After gaining more success with Sparkle & Fade in 1995 (backed by the hit single Santa Monica), Everclear returned to the studios as ambitious as ever in an attempt to finally breakthrough into mainstream success. The result of these sessions was So Much For The Afterglow, an album that, depending on how you look at it, is either brilliant or just plain derivative. I say that out of love however, because I genuinely like So Much For The Afterglow. It’s one of the first records I ever bought, and it’s filled with decidedly catchy songs. But from a purely critical standpoint, So Much For The Afterglow is, frankly, just bad. But that’s why music critics suck. Yes, you heard me. We suck.

Anyways, Everclear has always been a hard band to classify. It’s generally agreed that they fit into the grunge scene, as the group emerged just as that era was fading away to nothing. However, it’s also not a stretch to say that the band is one of the purest examples of pop-punk. With So Much For The Afterglow, the lines blurred even further, and the pop-punk label began to seem more appropriate than before, but the group displays some of the trademark tendencies of, dare I say it, power-pop - a subgenre notorious from not being altogether impressive.

So Much For The Afterglow is an album that is rather simplistic in it’s song structure and execution. Guitar parts are straight-ahead, rarely consisting of anything more complicated than a power chord. It works well in the context of Everclear’s music, but hardly provides incentive for fans that prefer the instrumental aspect of rock and roll. Likewise, the bass is also slightly one-dimensional, sticking to the punk-rock ethos by providing only a rhythm for Alexakis’ guitar to build upon. In fact, a lot of the album sticks to the punk-ethos, including lyricism. While he isn’t a bad writer - and in fact, he’s actually rather good - Art Alexakis lacks the ability to write songs using metaphors of complicated riddles. Rather, his style is straight-ahead and bare-bones, much like the guitar and bass. That’s not a bad thing, though, as Alexakis’ best moments as a writer come in pieces written more like a monologue or a narrative, rather than a poem. You’re also never left wondering what a song is about, because the lyrics are easily understandable, and it’s easy to sympathize.

The critic inside has to argue the point, though, that the general punk structure the band chose to employ hardly fits in comparison to some of the attempts at harder, grander, or more harmonic pieces. So Much For The Afterglow seems spotty, inconsistent and distant at times as the band attempts to figure out where they want to go. While the strength of the album lies mostly in the straightforward pop-punk rock numbers, the group does a fair share of experimenting. At times it works, like on the title track, the album’s first cut, or on the heavy metal-ish Amphetamine. But at other times, the results are less than desirable. One song features a media intro from an old medical film, while Why I Don’t Believe In God sounds vaguely like an unorganized attempt at blues-infused rock. One Hit Wonder is a good song for the first several listens, but the horns and various musical accompaniments do very little for the overall vibe of the song.

The biggest complaint from the critical perspective is that the album is repetitive. Much like another reviewer stated, So Much For The Afterglow is extremely repetitive, both thematically, and musically. The same chord progression that made Sparkle & Fade’s Santa Monica a hit is used on three different occasions, altered only minimally from its original form. Even down to the rhythm, a number of songs are near identically paced, leading one to wonder whether the band understands the basic musical concept of tempo. Thematically, Alexakis seems, understandably so I suppose, preoccupied with his youth and social dysentery. He examines issues ranging from self-doubt, to being abandoned by his father at the tender age of five.

While I have no problem with each of these on their own, when added up, the album reeks of despair and darkness - despite the bubbly pop exterior that encapsulates it. The same me-against-the-world attitude that permeated the band’s prior work just seems to hinder this album. Alexakis’ downtrodden, ode to the disenchanted adds an unnecessary weight to an album that hardly needs it. It’s clear that Alexakis needs to get over the songwriting hump and develop his own style. And while everyone’s past is an important part of their life, Alexakis dwells far too much on the less-desirable aspects of his upbringing. While his writing is solid, Everclear as a band could further themselves by helping Art accentuate some of the positives in life, rather than the negatives. That said, the lyrics are touching, and the same attitude and thematic uniformity that my more analytically side wants to criticize, are actually appealing from a more natural, human approach - especially since the pain and self-conflict here is genuine.

That’s why I’m torn on So Much For The Afterglow as an album. From a critical standpoint, Afterglow seems altogether too simplistic, too dark, and too uniform to be taken seriously. But from the standpoint of an average music fan, which I suppose I am, Afterglow is a genuinely likeable album. It’s sonically pleasing, the lyrics, depressing as they may be, are intelligently written, and Alexakis’ social disenchantment is all-too-real.

The focal point of So Much For The Afterglow lies essentially on the first half of the disc. The record’s title track opens with some Beach Boys-esque vocal harmonies before kicking into a driving, overdriven guitar-based piece. Everything To Everyone an excellent song built around a great drum beat, deals with the issue of popularity and cliques. It’s a great example of the group’s straight-edge writing style, as is Father Of Mine, one of the most haunting ‘pop’ songs that I’ve ever heard. Written at the age of fifteen by Alexakis, the song treads in familiar territory for more and more children these days. Using the same basic tempo and progression as Santa Monica, Father Of Mine deals with Alexakis’ father abandoning his family when Art was only five years old. The music video for this song is enough to make anyone with a soul get a tear in the eye.

Father of mine
Tell me where have you been
You know I just closed my eyes
My whole world disappeared
Father of mine
Take me back to the day
When I was still your golden boy
Back before you went away

I remember the blue skies
Walking the block
I loved it when you held me high
I loved to hear you talk
You would take me to the movie
You would take me to the beach
You would take me to a place inside
That is so hard to reach

The song ends with Alexakis deliberately echoing the final line of the song, “My Dad gave me a name/Then he walked away.” One Hit Wonder is a poppier number from the band, featuring a cowbell and a small horn section pushed off into the background. The song seems to be a lyrical attack on the critics who labelled the group a one hit wonder. Elsewhere, El Distorto De Melodica provides an instrumental respite, a heavy chugging guitar piece that moves well into Amphetamine, the least conventional track on the record. Like A California King closes the record, an eight-minute long track that really defines the record (and the band)'s me-against-the-world attitude.

It’s difficult to recommend So Much For The Afterglow because it has more than it’s fair share of flaws. But for some reason, it’s a great album. I can’t explain it, but there’s something about So Much For The Afterglow that appeals to the human side of a music writer. Perhaps it’s the emotional potency, or perhaps it’s just the catchy musical approach, but there’s something about this album that, as flawed as it may be, is undeniably charming. And in a battle of critical nature versus human nature, human nature wins out. So Much For The Afterglow, despite it’s many blemishes, is a good album you can’t help but enjoy. It’s repetitive, but it’s also one of the most powerfully emotive power-pop, pop-punk, pop-rock (whatever) albums that I’ve ever heard. Simply put, So Much For The Afterglow succeeds on a primal level and an emotional level. Your analytical side might disagree, but you can’t always listen to what that little voice up in your head says. It's possibly the best three-star album you'll ever hear.


Recommended: Yes