Sunny Day Real Estate: Finding emo

September 24th, 2009

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Before the self-mutilation jokes, the absurd cartoons, the hair, the clothes and reducing SpongeBob to this, “emo” wasn’t such a dirty word.

The first time I ever came across it was after discovering Sunny Day Real Estate on MuchMusic, actually. I saw the video for first single “Seven,” and though it was pretty cheesy with it’s “Take On Me”-like pencil sketch effects, the band’s raw emotion and quiet-to-loud crashes left me enamoured. The fact that I was 16 and it made such a connection made sense, considering the demographic for emo is predominantly teenaged.

To call Sunny Day Real Estate “emo” feels wrong in 2009. After all of the eyeliner-sporting bands we’ve been subjected to that were completely devoid of any genuine emotion whatsoever it’s no wonder the term is so tainted. But listening to SDRE’s first two albums again almost makes me want to utter it without embarrassment. Almost.

In a timely manner, Sub Pop has just reissued both Diary and LP2 to celebrate the original line-up’s reunion – yes, even Nate Mendel has put off his work with Foo Fighters and joined in for the first time since SDRE’s original break-up in 1995.

Their 1994 debut album Diary will always remain the cornerstone of not just emo’s second wave but also the band’s existence. At a time when grunge was fizzling out and punk was buzzing, Diary’s arrival couldn’t have been timed better.

And it couldn’t have begun better either.

“Seven” makes itself known like a firecracker down the trousers. The song’s urgency is almost excessive, as they waste no time pumping the accelerator on the time changes and chugging power chords, while Jeremy Enigk screams his assurance that “You’ll taste it in time.”

“In Circles” follows with as much vitality. Moving between segments, the guitars elate and then console, while Enigk whispers melodies that could be argued as the blueprint for what emo should have become – a sincere exhibition of true feelings.

There’s no denying the first half of Diary absolutely kills. From the lulling falsetto coos of “Song About An Angel” to the punk frame of “Round” and the swaying riffs of “47,” the first five songs are as close to perfection as it comes. While everything from “The Blankets Were The Stairs” on never reaches the same visceral clout, the second half keeps it clean and closes things out on a high note.

By comparison, LP2 always felt like the band could never deliver on the promise of their debut. However, reassessing it now I realize LP2 made the best record they could with what was left. Before its release, the band fell apart: Enigk became a born-again Christian and Mendel and William Goldsmith joined Dave Grohl’s Foo Fighters.

While it may not have the initial draw that made Diary’s impact so effective, LP2 doesn’t play like a band that were on the brink of implosion. The songs came from incomplete studio sessions, some lyrics weren’t finished and the band simply told Sub Pop to “make it pink” when asked what to do about the artwork, but for such a haphazard record it holds up.

“Friday” kicks off with much different intentions than “Seven” had. Slow-building and full of crawling guitars, it never launches into any sort of feverish state. “Theo B” is so pretty in its tones it seems like the obvious inspiration for Jimmy Eat World to write Clarity. Unlike Diary, it’s when “8” climaxes half way through that the album finds credence, especially when the winding “Iscarabaid” keeps the perseverance up until “Rodeo Jones,” a leftover from Diary ends in an abrupt frenzy.

There’s no denying these reissues are here to coincide with the reunion. So are they really worth it? Well, if you always felt like I did that Brad Wood’s mixes were a little muted, a little muddy, then these remastered editions have purpose. On top of some nice cardboard packaging, there are a couple of bonus tracks tacked on: Diary offers “8” and “9,” from their 1993 debut, the Thief, Steal Me A Peach 7-inch, while the “pink album” gives “Spade and Parade” and “Bucket of Chicken.”

- Cam Lindsay

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