When Chapel Hill, NC legends Superchunk disappeared into a semi-hiatus not too long after the promotional cycle for their 2001 album, Here's to Shutting Up, few could argue that they'd earned it. Over the course of more than a decade and eight-odd full-lengths, the group had traveled the world countless times, built their own label Merge into an underground powerhouse, and basically become the embodiment of the indie-rock ideal on the strength of an incredible, and possibly insane, work ethic.
"Like anything else you're doing full-time, you hit a wall at some point," says drummer Jon Wurster. "Speaking for myself, I hit that wall. It was time to step away from it for a while."
Like his bandmates, Wurster felt a pressing need to break away from what must've seemed like an endless cycle of recording and touring, to concentrate on other things, such as writing for his comedy project with radio host Tom Scharpling and other outfits. Unlike his bandmates, however, Wurster's sabbatical from the indie rock world was surprisingly short-lived. It wasn't long before offers to collaborate with other artists, friends and even heroes started coming in, and Wurster eventually found himself recording with and backing the likes of Alejandro Escovedo, former Guided by Voices member Doug Gillard, iconic ex-Husker Dü and Sugar frontman Bob Mould, and hip lo-fi collective The Mountain Goats. It's probably safe to say that Wurster did more playing in his "time off" from Superchunk than any other member of the band.
But that doesn't mean he wasn't refreshed and excited to reconvene with Mac McCaughan, Laura Ballance and guitarist Jim Wilbur when McCaughan began cranking out Superchunk tunes again earlier this year.
"It was just like going to another project for me, though it was like going home, too, like going back to the mothership," he says with a laugh. "That was good, because I came back in super shape from touring all the time and especially after playing with people like Bob Mould, where you're on 11 every night. I was in the best shape I'd ever been in."
Rather than returning to the lengthy and collaborative songwriting process that defined their methodology for the second half of the '90s, however, the band found logistics and a diversity of responsibility forcing them back to their roots, and the early days when McCaughan did most of the composing before sharing the new songs with the group. This time around, the bandleader penned the tunes that would become this September's Majesty Shredding in large part alone, sending demos to the other members of the group, who would convene for quick run-throughs and recording sessions when their schedules allowed.
It was a process Wurster found familiar not just from Superchunk's early days, but also from the projects he'd been undertaking in recent years.
"I had kind of gotten into this role as a supporting player for a bunch of different artists, and that's kind of how I was operating for the last few years," he says. "If I'm playing with Bob Mould or someone, he would show me how the song would go that day, and we'd record it. I was in that mode. I'm not quite sure what it was like for the others, but I really liked doing it that way."
Wurster also credits the catch-as-catch-can sessions for the raw, jubilant and energetic sound of Majesty Shredding:
"There's less time to really overthink it, I think that's the main thing. When I listen to a record like Here's To Shutting Up or Come Pick Me Up, I can remember being in the basement and laboring over what to do. If you've only got a day or two to really figure it out, then you go with your initial idea, which is usually the best idea, I think. That might account for [Majesty] having this kind of cool, youthful bam-bam-bam quality to it."
Now that a new record is out, one might think that Wurster, McCaughan, Ballance and Wilbur are ready to step back into a grueling tour schedule to bring Majesty Shredding to the masses, a triumphant globetrotting return to glory with confirmed dates that stretch far beyond the quickly approaching bottom of the 2010 calendar.
One would be mistaken.
"No, and we're not," says the drummer with a laugh. "I don't think we ever planned on going back to anything like we had been doing for that 11-year stretch, or whatever it was, '91 to 2001. We would tour so much and record so much, it was a full-time job, and everyone has kind of moved on in their lives to different things. It's so much fun to come back to it in this way now, where you don't have to think about it like, 'I'm kind of saddled to this for most of this year.' We have blocks of things we'll do, and one-off stuff, and we'll plan our lives around that."
Superchunk have found themselves in an enviable position, one more than two decades in the making. They can play when they want, record when they want, and still enjoy lives and time away from the indie band grind, in part because since they helped write the rules of that existence, they're now free to break them.
"I don't know if it was always the plan, but definitely, putting your own records out, that part eliminates so much of the worry," Wurster says. "We're so lucky that Mac and Laura are the label, that's such a concern for every other band … that's a huge headache that has always been out of the equation for us. We could do it indefinitely, and who knows?"
CD Reviews
Pop Remastered and Dylan's Demos
One LP gets the chance to shine 30 years after its original release; the other offers some old but unreleased material.
By Steve Seachrist
Iggy Pop & James Williamson
Kill City: Restored, Remixed & Remastered
Bob Dylan
The Witmark Demos: 1962-1964 (The Bootleg Series, Volume 9)
If you only know Iggy Pop as the leader of the Stooges or as that guy who later graduated from the David Bowie school of pop/rock, Kill City will come as a revelation. It was recorded after the Stooges incarnations had fizzled and before Iggy was co-opted as the next whatever. Here, we find our skinny proto-punk crooner delivering his swarthy vocals atop backing tracks that his sideman James Williamson prepared in advance of the Igster's release on weekends from rehab. Not surprisingly, it sounds the way mid-1970s Detroit rock should — and luckily for us, this is before insanely dated drum sounds and stupid synthesizers commandeered the national soundscape for a decade or so.
Musically, this recording is advanced way beyond anything Iggy produced before. Williamson clearly took the time to invent interesting tracks for his boss to sing over. There are no original Stooges alumni present, and that's both good and bad. The sound is raw enough and augmented by a lot of sax and keys (more so than on Funhouse or Raw Power), which ends up being a positive, since what came later could sometimes be hard to love. But you're gonna have to get used to the architect of punk rock selling himself on a whole different level for his first foray into what could have been more commercial music, had the stars been properly aligned at the time.
Highlights include, well, the whole shebang, if you ask me. It's less than 35 minutes long and if you can't sit still for that, you have big problems. Blast it from some big speakers and enjoy the fine job Williamson has done with the brand new mix. Every sound is properly placed and authentically rendered here. It's not something that really went anywhere, so it reads like a truly anachronistic artifact. Did it influence anything? I doubt it. There were plenty of rock bands playing hard music at the time. What sets this apart is Pop and Williamson, who had their own, slightly skewed vision of what rock should be at the time. That makes it good!
I don't mind saying that to this day, I would eat up anything Iggy Pop put in front of me on a live stage and it's a stretch to appreciate him on this much more controlled recording. Still, it is worth a couple of spins to see if it gets under your skin. It definitely got way under mine.
This latest collection of informal recordings by Bob Dylan is a curiosity rather than a revelation, an audio catalog of his original songs recorded as transcriptions from 1962 through 1964. As such, it's surprising that Dylan treated many of the songs as performances, perhaps conscious that anything committed to tape would reflect his ability not just to write, but to sing and play. The "talking blues" numbers are a bit sedate compared to versions you can find elsewhere, but other than that, we are treated to mostly heartfelt renderings with some fragmentary takes, coughs, muffs and other imperfections scattered here and there. Mostly, Dylan seemed to want to get the songs across meaningfully and he accomplishes this to a great degree, probably without the opportunity for second takes.
There is a broad range of styles repped here, even at this very early stage of Dylan's songwriting development. You may be startled at how adept he is at playing guitar in so many different ways. He's certainly not just strumming along. A few songs even have him at a piano, and although his chops are rudimentary on that particular instrument, the results are unique versions you won't hear the likes of anywhere else.
Of the 15 or so previously unreleased songs none are lost masterpieces. A few are interesting enough (check out "Long Time Gone" and "Hero Blues" for examples), but almost all are outtakes from his primary catalog for very good reasons — it's jarring to hear the duds right alongside the big hits. Did Dylan know the difference at the time? I'd say he did, since the previously unheard songs were dropped from his repertoire immediately after this short time frame. There really isn't a whole lot of value added by including these cuts other than offering up the realization that Dylan was indeed capable of writing a crappy song (many, actually).
The sonic quality varies, with the first few (and earliest) tracks sounding best. There's a fair amount of distortion, as no professional engineer was manning the controls, and it isn't at all unexpected. It's just a fair warning.
The best of all of the tracks contained on this volume is the earliest-known recording of "Tomorrow is a Long Time." That one will get to you if you've ever yearned to connect with a loved one who is far away and inaccessible. The version on Bob Dylan's Greatest Hits, Vol. 2 is comparatively watered down by time and instrumentation. This one kills. Don't listen to it while driving or operating heavy machinery. It could make a grown man cry (and it did).
As a huge bonus, the pre-order from Amazon.com came with a short live CD recorded at Brandeis University in 1963. On this, you'll hear what the presence of an audience could do to Dylan's performances. This little disc demonstrates what the Bootleg Series is at its best — an outlet for the excitement that Bob Dylan could (and still can) evoke.
This article appears in Dec 2-8, 2010.