The pure joy that comes from perfectly crafted pop music is unmatchable. It's a bliss that makes you want to sing, bounce, and smile goofily because of its sheer likeability, its flow to the ear... hell, its cuteness. We all need a little bit of "cute," and pop (especially pop-rock - cute hidden behind a manly guise of guitars, drums, and messy hair) is a safe, non-threatening outlet.
Despite the simplicity that characterizes pop-rock, producing the music well, with a unique, defining sound, is no easy task (just flip on Mix 98.5 and listen to almost every new pop band out there). So no band has really ever come close to the pop perfection attained by The Lemonheads. They didn't hide behind faces of angst and wannabe rocker clothing. Their lead vocalist never spewed sweat and snarled while crooning simple, silly love songs. The band realized what it was - candy-sweet pop to the core, with no apologies - and fully relished in it.
It's A Shame About Ray marked the commercial high point of what is to date the Boston band's eight-album career. It was 1992, and lead vocalist Evan Dando reigned supreme as rock's pretty-boy poster child, with flowing golden locks and a general cluelessness that captured the hearts of female fans. He could not have had any better backing music. Ray brims with simplicity and fun - 13 ditties that ponder love in its various forms: gained, lost, wanted, on hold...you name it. Throw in a droll cover of Simon and Garfunkel's "Mrs. Robinson," and a sweet rendition of "Frank Mills" from the rock musical Hair, and the 29 minute, 46 second-long album that has defined the band to this day is complete.
Ray's remarkably short length left The Lemonheads plenty of room to utilize their talents - there is no need at all for any song (all under four minutes) to stretch any longer than they already are. Each is fully saturated with just enough self-assurance, wit, and innocence to make it a gem. They all revel in their catchiness for a minute or so, and quickly move on to the next track.
Dando's warm, soothing voice and soft-wit style of songwriting is a surefire way to ensure that no song can really fail. Each is highly similar - a melodic, simple, quirky ode to life. "Rockin' Stroll is a tale from the view of a baby carriage ("People's knees/And trunks of trees/Smile at me"), while "Confetti" deals with divorce and love lost ("He kinda sorta shoulda woulda loved her if he coulda") with an infectious hook. He refers to the heroine of "Alison's Starting To Happen" as "the puzzle piece behind the couch that makes the sky complete," then continues to tell us that "Alison's getting her tit pierced/Alison's growing a Mohawk." The album is simply endearing, and self-aware, all at once.
Alternative goddess (and Dando counterpart) Juliana Hatfield guest stars throughout the album, providing a welcome female voice that covers everything from tender harmony on "Buddy," to general screeching on "Alison."
Unfortunately, The Lemonheads have made themselves scarce as of late. It's a shame - they'd be ideal models for bands today as a group that can retain personality while at the same time creating music that basically anyone can enjoy. It's a lesson that needs to be reviewed, and Ray is the perfect guidebook.
