Dissecting PAED

For those of us tuned into the online music world of news and commentary, a lot of venture to Pitchfork to read reviews of the latest hot jamz (no need for the s anymore kids) from our favorite artists. The problem is that Pitchfork has its own language. It's called PAED (pronounced just like the word "paid"). What it stands for is: Pretentious and Enlightened Douche. PAED has been building a strong following in the last 7 or so years. I'd like to think SPIN would be the first place I caught this new language, and since then, it's navigated to Pitchfork, punknews.org and every other blog written by someone with dumb glasses and stupid haircuts living in Brooklyn (SIDENOTE: When did glasses all of a sudden become cool? There's a reason "four eyes" is a famous insult, we need to bring that back). Not a lot of people are fluent in PAED but chances are, if you go catch an Of Montreal show, you'll find many people speaking the language. I'll give a few examples:

"You listen to My Chemical Romance? That's pure corporate product." TRANSLATION: "Since I'm so insecure with myself, I judge people based on their music tastes alone and if you listen to anything that 13-year-old girls like, you must be an idiot and I'll refer to the band as a "product" even if they've toured their asses off in shitty vans, playing even shittier clubs."

"People from Middle America just don't understand the brilliance of Bright Eyes. I mean, most of those guys like Nickelback or that kind of crap." TRANSLATION: "Even though I come from the middle of Pennsylvania, since I moved to Brooklyn, I have automatically transformed into a more enlightened and cultured individual. Oddly enough, I preach to others that I am individual and accept all people for what they are, yet at the same time, I find it acceptable to generalize about 95% of the U.S. population."

"This club used to be cool but there are too many B&T people here." TRANSLATION: "I need to assert myself over the other people in this place because I feel insecure so I have to point out that they are not from Manhattan. Nevermind that 98% of the island isn't from here originally, and I grew up in Texas. I'm now living in Manhattan and I'm better than everyone."

Whew, I almost broke a sweat. Ok kids, listen up. For today's listen, I'm going to translate a review from Pitchfork since their reviews are written entirely in PAED. This one is for one of the freshest jamz of the last 10 years: Foo Fighters The Colour And The Shape. Make sure you're taking notes so you're not confused next time you go see that "genius" from Bright Eyes make animal noises with his guitar. (Pitchfork is in bold, I'm not, even though I am).

The Colour and the Shape was the Foo Fighters' second album, but it's the first to receive the commemorative 10th anniversary treatment. That's not to suggest the album is superior to Dave Grohl's 1995 Foos debut (it's not), but its double-platinum sales did mark the band's permanent transformation from humble hobby project into the grunge Wings: i.e., a band that could never claim the same cultural impact as its antecedent, but that can at least get played just as much on KROQ. And that was to be expected-- The Colour and the Shape's 1997 release was perfectly timed to herald modern rock radio's shift from grunge's roar to emo's wail.

TRANSLATION: I have to first make it clear that I knew about Foo Fighters from day one and I appreciate their first CD the most, since that was the least successful. I also have to claim that the record was somewhat tailored for radio play because, anytime someone cleans up the sound of their guitars or drums, they're clearly thinking "Yes! Radio will play this song!" To sum up, I am establishing my credibility in this first paragraph.

More so than the Foo Fighters' debut-- a homemade, self-recorded collection of demos Grohl had accumulated while manning Nirvana's drum stool-- The Colour and the Shape presented a true picture of the kind of group Grohl wanted to be in, had he not been sidetracked by the job of drumming for the biggest American rock band of the early 1990s. But despite Grohl's dream-team assembly-- Pixies producer Gil Norton, Germs guitarist Pat Smear, Sunny Day Real Estate bassist Nate Mendel, and former Alanis Morrissette drummer Taylor Hawkins (who joined after the album's recording)-- that band would turn out to be much more formulaically mall-punk than the Foos' torn 'n' frayed debut suggested.

TRANSLATION: I'm making it a point to remind you, yet again, that I liked the debut better because it's so much cooler to be down with the old stuff than new stuff. Notice how I point out how there were former members of The Germs and Sunny Day Real Estate. You might, at first, think I was mentioning that in case some people didn't know. Well, that's part of the reason, but the other reason is so I can assert myself over you and subconsciously point out that you're not as cultured as I am since you probably don't own and Germs or Sunny Day Real Estate records.

On that first album, Grohl displayed a remarkable deftness for balancing melody and menace-- even as the rocket-launcher riffs of "This Is a Call" and "I'll Stick Around" shot into the red, he never lost his cool. On The Colour and the Shape, the noise/pop relationship feels more forced, like Grohl's trying too hard to grind down his sweet tooth into a fang, dressing up virtually every song in a chrome-plated guitar gilding that boosts the volume and fidelity, but ultimately dulls the impact. Maybe he's overcompensating for being a softie at heart: the gentlest turns are either presented as brief teasers (the 84-second opener "Doll"), are appended with portentous, power-ballad choruses ("February Stars"), or are muted into a blur ("Walking After You", which reappeared in improved, revised form on The X-Files movie soundtrack). Or just contrast the first album's standout single "Big Me" with The Colour's "Up in Arms", two melodically similar songs in vastly different packaging: Where the former is content to coast as a simple, gentle jangle, the latter resorts to a soft/loud about-face that feels like nudge-wink schtick.

TRANSLATION: Wow, I bet you thought I was reviewing The Colour And The Shape but I'm teasing you by still talking about the 1st record. I'm making comparisons between songs on those records and making sure you realize that, yes, once again the first record is superior than the second. Even though the first record used the same soft/loud dynamics that I'm complaining about, I'm still going to bitch because that's what I do best!

Listening to the album a decade later, it's clear the singles were singles for a reason: "Monkey Wrench" romps like a typical Grant Hart Hüsker Dü number but is given a massive kick by Grohl's climactic, hoarse-throated third verse, and "My Hero" strikes the uncharted middle ground between sensitive-guy vulnerability and Super Bowl pre-game show soundtrack. And then, of course, there's the song that's kept me from unloading this disc at the used-record store: "Everlong", one the most affecting, passionate rock songs of the 1990s-- Sonic Youth's "Teenage Riot" recast as Weezer's "Say It Ain't So". (And yet, not even this pensive ode to blossoming romance is immune from the Foos' jokester tendencies-- thanks to its horror-spoof video, every time I hear this song I picture Taylor Hawkins in a Goldilocks outfit.)

TRANSLATION: So, here I do something out of the norm. I actually compliment the singles. In typical PAED fashion, I usually would poo-poo the singles because other people like them. However, I'm also sure to call out Sonic Youth to again assert myself over you because you probably don't have any of their records. I'm also letting you know that I really don't think this CD is that big of a deal and would have sold it to a used CD store (or your kid brother Blake) because I couldn't be bothered with such rubbish, yet when Sonic Youth goes around recording the sound of the heater clicking and a toilet being plunged, I'll refuse to part with that CD overnight and make up some bullshit story about how it "shaped my musical tastes."

The six B-sides tacked onto this anniversary edition-- four of them covers-- would seemingly serve as little more than excuse for the Foos to goof off, but in effect they lend the '97 Foos more, well, color and shape. On the album proper, Grohl shrieks that he doesn't get "enough space," but the robo-punk redux of Vanity 6's "Drive Me Wild" and the dub-metal prowl through Gary Numan's "Down in the Park" give the Foos room to explore the outer edges of their pop-punk parameters. Even the song most susceptible to the vagaries of kitsch, Gerry Rafferty's smooth-rock standard "Baker Street", is played with a straight face, and proves an ideal complement to Grohl's voice (though it also proves you shouldn't send a guitar to do a sax's job). The final bonus cut is the caterwauling, feedback-screeched title track, which was left off the original tracklist yet provides the only real evidence on this whole album that one of the Foo Fighters used to be in The Germs.

TRANSLATION: Since I gave the CD a 5.8 (which would still be an F by most school's standards) I have to at least tell you some of the parts I think are good. Naturally, those would be the B-sides, since that re-emphasises how I'm into things that are "out-of-the-norm" and "not mainstream."

Then again, this album was always about severing ties to the past, with Grohl's post-relationship purging ("I was always caged and now I'm freeeee!") doubling as a metaphor for his promotion from drummer to camera-ready frontman. At the time of The Colour and the Shape's release, many interpreted "My Hero" as a requiem for Kurt Cobain. But if there's a conversation going on between Grohl and his fallen friend here, it's in the arena-sized chorus of "Hey, Johnny Park", when he wonders, "Am I selling you out?" As the subsequent 10-year string of radio hits has shown, it's a question Grohl would never have to ask again.

TRANSLATION: Even though Dave Grohl went through a messy divorce around the time of making the record, I'm still going to assume that "Monkey Wrench" was written about him jumping ship from drums to guitars. Who cares that he had been writing songs since 1990 on guitar, I mean, the meaning is clear! I also make it a point to use the good ol' "sellout" argument because Foo Fighters have achieved mainstream success. Even though Dave Grohl has always wrote passionate songs, stayed away from trends yet refined the bands sound, I must make it a point to knock them down a few notches because they sound a lot crisper and cleaner than Nirvana.

Well, I hope I helped clear up the PAED language. If you have any more questions, just hop on the subway over to Williamsburg and I'm sure someone will be happy to assist you.