Willjlevith's Blog

Pete Yorn

Back & Forth

Columbia Records

Produced by Mike Mogis

Street Date: June 23, 2009

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I can’t remember where I was or what I was doing when I heard “Life On a Chain” from Pete Yorn’s first album Musicforthemorningafter (2001), but I know that I liked it. I gather it was probably on WEQX 102.7 in our family’s little black Honda Accord (with the flip-up headlights; remember those?), and it was probably the spring or late summer of that year, which turned out to be the last gasp before the world changed forever. September 11, 2001 would occur weeks into my senior year of college, and I remember how empty I felt, watching that shit unfold on my TV screen. Ultimately, it was the music I was listening to at the time, which helped ground me in reality—which helped me get through it all.

Anyhow, I heard that song and immediately took to how hooky it was, without being too pretentious—there was that scratchy opening guitar riff, then the sudden break to nonscratchiness into the chorus (“I was waiting over here…”). It was just a great, little tune, which got quite a bit of airplay in our small upstate New York town and probably helped sell Yorn a few hundred copies of that album on that track alone.

The other single, which I believe was out at near the same time, was “For Nancy (‘Cos It Already Is),” which had this hurdling forward motion, like it was on speed, and this great syncopated guitar riff, which I was never entirely able to recreate on my guitar. I liked “Nancy” equally as much as “Life On a Chain”—and as it goes, I figured that with two songs enjoyed out of, say, 10 on the average album, I was doing pretty good with Pete Yorn.

So I went out and bought the album, which at the time was probably $12.99. I’m going to go ahead and say that the album is actually worth $1,299.99, because it is one of those top-to-bottom gems, which only come around once in a lifetime. I’m pretty sure that Music is one of the top-10 most-listened-to albums in my stacks. I’d have to say that my favorite track on it is “Sense,” a brooding love song, with a hypnotically pretty chorus (“Is something wrong with me?/I show you things you’ve never seen.”).

An interesting side-note: In 2002-03, when I was living in Madrid, Spain, I had an American roommate, who was a really talented graphic designer and big music fan. At the time, he was really into Jimmy Eat World (especially Bleed American, which had come out on or near September 11), Saves the Day and other similar artists, and we shared a passion for the then-two-months-and-change old Flaming Lips magnum opus Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots (we would be in stitches every time Wayne Coyne would sing “those evil-natured robots/are programmed to destroy us.”). But it was I that got Nick into Pete Yorn’s Music album, and from the first few spins onward, Nick would literally play “Nancy” three to five times a day, while he did his design work. Sometimes, he would burst into my room and just start air-guitaring it. It’s that infectious. To this day, every time I hear that song, I think of Nick and that apartment we shared.

An even more interesting side-note: Another friend of mine in Madrid, an Irish guy named Steve, who had moved there from Chicago, Ill. (by way of Cork, Ireland), claimed that that song “Nancy” was about a girl he used to know. While I never was able to find evidence supporting this, I trust that Steve was telling the truth; he was the type of guy who wouldn’t up and lie to you often. And if he did, he’s a bloody langer (look that one up, if you don’t know what it means; I believe it’s local to Cork).

Anyhow, getting back to my introduction, around spring 2003, Pete Yorn’s second album dropped, Day I Forgot, which of course, I bought immediately. After six years of trying to enjoy Day I Forgot as much as his first album, it’s pretty much a lost cause. It’s just not that great an album. “Come Back Home” and “Crystal Village” are early standouts, which just gleam with that pop crust from the first album. “Carlos (Don’t Let It Go to Your Head),” on the other hand, still, to this day, makes me scratch my head for a few seconds and then skip forward. It’s just an awful song. The remainder of the album is, well, decent but not great, save for the idiotic ode to Mexican food/love “Burrito,” which has an extremely catchy chorus. It’s sort of a poor man’s “Nancy.”

Yorn’s second offering didn’t hit it out of the park—at least that much was true. But it didn’t scare me away completely. In 2004, Yorn put out a live album, which I distinctly remember Rolling Stone giving a fantastic review. I never bought it, because it really didn’t have anything that new on it, save for a few choice covers (one of which was by Springsteen, which is no doubt at least worthy of an additional half a star to Rolling Stone). I recently had a chance to buy it at a local record shop but backed out for some reason. Maybe it was the thought of having to skip over its fourth track, “Carlos,” for eternity.

Well, when I moved down to New York City and became a big, important music journalist, I started getting a ton of music in the mail. (I wish “important” meant “rich.”) One of those albums was Yorn’s third studio album, 2006’s Nightcrawler, which supposedly was the third in a three-album story arc: MusicfortheMORNINGafter, DAY I Forgot and NIGHTcrawler. This explanation I found slightly suspect, but I took note of it and have done my best to think of these albums as one, giant “concept” album. Why the second album wasn’t entitled “At NOON, I Forgot” or something, escapes me, but I get the reasoning behind the “Day” thing. It just sounds better.

Yet another interesting note: four years before the album was released, its third track “Undercover” was featured on the 2002 Spider-Man soundtrack, and Yorn guessed (correctly) that it was a strong enough song to add impact to the tracklisting of Nightcrawler. In short, he added an invisible hook. Also included in the tracklisting is a Warren Zevon cover, “Splendid Isolation,” which was featured on a tribute album to the singer-songwriter in 2004.

What did I think of his third? Well, it was neither as strong as the first album, nor as so-so as the second; it fell somewhere in between, but closer to the strength of the first than to the so-so of the second. “For Us” has sort of a Traveling Wilburys backbeat and is a decent single. It doesn’t blow you away, but Yorn, master of the bridge/chorus, is at it again; the chorus shines like a crazy diamond. The aforementioned “Undercover” is the pop-iest you’ll ever find Yorn, with that Hollywood movie song “it” in it, which makes it sound so fucking grand. It’s “size” reminds me of The Goo-Goo Dolls’ “Iris”; whether or not you like the latter song, it’s got an undeniably large size to it. “The Man,” on the other hand, is gorgeous in its simplicity and features a Dixie Chick harmonizing with him. The other collective tracks don’t fall flat, but I feel that Yorn, at least at this point in his career, had fallen into the trap of sloppiness for the sake of the contract (maybe it’s against his control, I’m not sure): his first album was near perfect, and you could almost hear the meticulousness that went into tracking each song; but his follow-ups, while having a few gems scattered throughout, are mostly bunts or complete throwaways.

Which brings me to his fourth studio album, Back & Forth, which is sitting in my disc player as we speak. Let’s get on with it.

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First Impression(s): Stripped down, acoustic, mandolin, that same old fantastic voice. Those are the first words that pop into my head when I listen to the first track, “Don’t Wanna Cry.” Oh, and here we go, in the last chorus, Yorn is raising the octave (and octane) and singing in that just-high-enough range he does so well. Not sure about the female voices singing “if it makes you feel better” over the last minute or so of the song, or the trumpet, which seems out of place. But strong start. Second track “Paradise Cove” sounds a little like Josh Rouse—breezy, jazzy, smoke-weed laidback—and of course, the chorus is spot on. I think the female harmonizer is Orenda Fink (Azure Ray). We’re already on the third track here, “Close,” and there hasn’t been a single upbeat song. But these have all been pretty damned strong sad songs, and I must say, I like sad songs more than happy ones—always have. I’m intrigued by the fourth track name: “Social Development Dance.” Very personal verse lyrics, and again, an unmissable chorus. Christ, if every singersongwriter had his gift! He actually says “Googled” in this song—and yep, it’s a sad one. A story of falling in love, falling apart, then finding out that that person has died. Ouch (but a good ouch). I already like “Shotgun,” because of its chunky guitar riff, which Pete Yorn is also damned good at sculpting. And it turns out that this album was written lyrics-first, which is quite the Bernie Taupin feat. So all these songs’ melodies were written after their accompanying lyrics. The bridge on “Shotgun” is a bit generic, but I’m just being picky here. This is another solid song (and it’s also decently upbeat). “Last Summer” is definitely not upbeat but rocks hard from the beginning. I like the steely, jangly sound of the guitars. I really, really like the mix of Yorn’s voice with Fink’s. The song has a The Weight Is a Gift-era Nada Surf quality to it; just great pop. “Thinking of You,” the seventh track, is pretty rotten, lyrically. (Let’s see if the second verse is better than the first.) Nope. The chorus is decent but not great. The bridge is the best part of the song. “Country” is played on a 12-string guitar, which I always dig right off the bat. Well, at least one of the guitars has twelve strings. Definitely got a Byrds feel to the chorus—or maybe it’s that 12-string guitar that makes me think it sounds like the Byrds. I don’t care what rock historians say—George Harrison may have played the 12-string Rickenbacker on “A Hard Day’s Night,” but the Byrds were the ones that made it the instrument of that era. Roger McGuinn, to be more specific. He just took the fucking thing and ran with it. And it’s been a fantastic part of many great songs over the years. “Country” could’ve fit on the first record. Great stuff. “Four Years”: more sketchy lyrics. This may have been another issue of not-too-strong lyrics melded with a what-should-I-do-for-this-one? melody. You can hear quite a bit of that on Elton John’s albums—some of Bernie’s lyrics just blow, and conveniently, so does the melody. The twine need to work separately and together for the magic to take place. The album closer, “Long Time Nothing New,” is a piano ballad, which could work out. I like these lyrics; they’re working a hell of a lot better than the previous set. This is classic laidback Yorn. The plucked (upright?) bass in the background is a nice touch. At the lyric “burns on in your mind” we get that lovely Yorn on Yorn melody/harmony, which he does so well. The high/low mesh of his voice is just so lovely.

Song(s) of Note: Well, in order to make it easy for you, I’ll just reiterate the fact that “Thinking of You” and “Four Years” fall flat lyrically and melodically and that the rest of the album is a beautiful departure from the normal rockin’, upbeat Yorn (not that he hasn’t written sad songs; he just hasn’t written virtually an entire album of sad songs). A little bit too laidback at times, but I think you’ll like it if you give it a try. It might be worth cracking a beer, letting a bottle of red wine breathe or lighting up a joint for the full effect. Not that I have done any of those three things while listening to this album. In fact, I have merely taken off my shoes and socks and sipped at a glass of Diet Dr. Pepper (it tastes exactly like the real Dr. Pepper; it’s true).

Roundup: Pete Yorn Fan: You’re going to dig this album: buy it today, tomorrow or whenever you have the money. Non–Pete Yorn Fan: It might be worth buying his first album before cracking this one; it’ll give you more songs to enjoy before having to take a step out onto the edge of the “new Yorn” abyss. It’s a friendly one, though; it’s not the type that will suck you in and spit you out. I’ve seen the guy live, and it’s worth becoming a fan. He’s a really likeable guy—just an average sort of fellow, who is a good songwriter, enjoys Syracuse basketball (he went to college there) and happened to hit it big.

Will Levith