Grandaddy - Under The Western Freeway (1997)

Emerging from the thick woods of Modesto, California, five seemingly giant hillbillies thrust their musical vision onto an unsuspecting public. While we prepared to apply copious amounts of cotton wool, the sweetest of harmonies drifted by and spun a lasso around our hearts. Grandaddy have been in existence since 1992 but it wasn't until they became a 5-piece in 1995 that their current sound began to blossom. The follow up to this their debut, The Sophtware Slump has rightly engaged everybody who has come into contact with it. Under the Western Freeway is, however, less defined yet possesses enough moments to have you on the kitchen floor like a cry-baby calling for mama.

There is a terrific sense of awkwardness about Grandaddy's music. Nothing is doctored to appease the moneymen. So songs as left-field and aspiring as 'Nonphenomenal Lineage' flit into view in sub-ugly duckling garb only to undress to reveal that dashing swan like poise underneath. The choir like keyboard directions allied with the simplest of riffs bolster lead singer Jason Lytle's delicate story of rejection. Witness the elegant swing of 'Am. 180' with its electro keys holding centre stage and Lytle's gentle nonsensical lyrics beaming any conscious mind to some dusty town in mid America. If that isn't enough to frighten you, then you should try taking on the intense melody of 'Laughing Stock'. With words like 'We do believe it ends right here', shuttling about like teletubbies on E, it's hard not to smile at the unusualness of it all. Add to this the huge undercurrent of haunting vibes and it's hard to suppress Lytle's awkward vision.

The title track 'Under The Western Freeway' arrives as a soft instrumental, bolstered by flute sounds and distant guitar feedback. As poised and dignified as a ballet dancer it could easily be the cutest lost puppy in history put to music. Your friendly outstretched attention may be all it needs to find the vocal it so craves. Deep breath, 'Collective Dreamwish Of Upperclass Elegance' is slowed down melancholy pampered with a playful acousticism making it hard to resist. Things go decidedly astronomical as 'Everything Beautiful Is Far Away' shudders on some rattling guitar chimes and the oohs and aahs of a man bearing his soul. The looping guitars spins the fragile piece out of control, taking everything in its path on a journey to those hills that don't seem so faraway.

Grandaddy have more or less harvested a planet of sound through the most ingenious of means. They may come across as daft, but their lyrics belie this fact. There is a deep sense of humour that is not immediately obvious ('Poisoned At Hartsy Thai Food' anyone?). But it's the fantastic obliging melody that makes this album a winner. Never is this more evident than their early single 'Summer Here Kids'. Jaunty, spunky and bolstered by a few trickle down piano keys this is music on a large scale. Just breathe in the innovation and get light headed. Towards the end, 'Why Took Your Advice' is perhaps just too slack to garner any great love. Those daft punk guitar jibes are a little too coarse to inspire but like on the rest of the album Jason Lytle's little rascal vocals afford submission. 'Go Progress Chrome' is much better. Picking up on a Sparklehorse jumble guitar sale intro it froths at the mouth in an attempt to weave the perfect musical tapestry. Like twinkling stars in the night, trying to find a word that describes it adequately is futile. 'Under The Western Freeway' will doubtless have you puzzled, wide-eyed, illuminated, confused but most of all completely satisfied. Talent like this rarely gets a hearing but if you are in the neighbourhood then prepare to spend one of the most interesting hours on your musical adventure. You'll doubtless drop in soon again, this time with a bottle of Jack Daniel's in tow.

Rating: 7.5/10

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