Graded on a Curve:
Glenn Mercer,
Incidental Hum

Glenn Mercer is a key figure in guitar-pop history, with his most important roles being vocalist, string-bender, and songwriter in New Jersey titans The Feelies. He’s also been a factor in numerous related projects across the decades, and on October 9th Bar None Records doubles his solo discography through the release of Incidental Hum, an all-instrumental affair featuring twelve originals and three covers. It’s available on LP, CD, and digital.

Way back before the beginning there was the Out Kids, the group’s membership including Mercer, drummer Dave Weckerman, and later bassist Bill Million. Initially specializing in versions of ‘60s garage rock, they eventually transitioned to originals and played gigs in late ‘70s NYC; after an irate lead singer ushered the Out Kids to an end, a few adjustments were made and The Feelies were born.

Released in 1980, Crazy Rhythms stands as their essential document and one of the finest albums of its decade, gleaming like a beacon at the historical intersection of Velvets-derived post-punk and the ensuing college radio aided jangle-pop explosion; head and shoulders above the legions of bands they influenced, if Mercer had contributed to nothing else his placement in the annals of recorded music would be secure.

The Feelies went on to cut three more LPs before breaking up in the early ‘90s, and along the way Mercer took part in offshoots the Trypes (Acute Records’ retrospective Music for Neighbors is excellent), Yung Wu (who left behind ‘87’s nifty Shore Leave) and the Willies; post-dissolution (they’ve since reunited) he formed Wake Ooloo for a series of discs, played in True Wheel and Sunburst, and in 2007 issued his debut solo effort Wheels in Motion on the Pravda label.

Whether in The Feelies, as part of the side activities listed above, or through Wheels in Motion, whenever Mercer’s brought something new to the turntable over the years, the results have retained a certain amount of stylistic and qualitative cohesion with his previous output. Given its instrumental nature, Incidental Hum would seem to be an exception; in fact, the new record’s roots span back to the Willies.

The name the Willies was adopted by The Feelies for their appearance in Jonathan Demme’s ’86 film Something Wild, but the actual project began much earlier, stemming from Mercer and Million’s work on the soundtrack to Smithereens, the Susan Seidelman-directed Richard Hell-starring picture of ‘82. It was a pairing leaning toward experimentation and improvisation and with interests reaching beyond mere rock to Phillip Glass, Kraftwerk, and notably Brian Eno.

“Here Come the Warm Jets” figures as one of Incidental Hum’s borrowings, but an even bigger shaping influence is Eno’s collaboration with Robert Fripp. The glistening feel of opener “Hana” is mildly reminiscent of the duo’s work on ‘75’s Evening Star, though only at the outset, Mercer’s slide guitar and a rattling maraca nudging the two-minute track into territory of its own.

A truly solo outing achieved via overdubbing, the assembled outcomes eschew typical album flow, though that shouldn’t be read as a lack of organization. “Cheyenne” emerges as an avant-ish blend of repetitive keyboard strains and plucked stings only to become infused with Fripp-like overtones and crisp rhythmic propulsion near the finish, while “Mobile” lands halfway between an early ‘80s DIY studio endeavor and post-punk neo-psych; loaded with raucous guitar and economical keyboard textures, it’s a treat.

“Yuma” is the first of Incidental Hum’s detours into modestly-scaled spaghetti western-style ambiance, deepening the cinematic quality as the abstract glide of “Laramie” underscores the experimental angle. At first, “Moss Point” registers like a snippet from a “lost” ‘80s recording by an anonymous axe god experiencing adulthood in his Mom’s basement, though mid-way through it transcends the description but without really negating the vibe.

Frankly, that’s impressive. And speaking of vibes, a xylophone (or something similar) lends a nice touch to the Eno-esque prettiness of “Winslow.” Mercer returns to the soundtrack motif in “Kodiak,” but like many of the selections here as the piece progresses the setting morphs into an increasingly rhythmic and melodic environment.

Much of Incidental Hum is about sonic layering, and credit is due to Mercer that the results, while often inexpensive sounding, don’t strike the lobes as chintzy in the mode of a second-rate indie flick OST. This said, “Hermosa” could definitely accompany a montage sequence in a contempo desert noir, and with some overlapping droning guitars “Twenty-nine Palms” could easily originate from the same score.

“Kara Sea” is one of the platter’s standouts, a wonderfully bent slab of gradually ascending emotional climax leading into “Salem,” a composition with enough structural value to justify its seven minute expansiveness. It concludes Mercer’s slate of original material for the disc, and following it is a reading of Harold Arlen’s “Over the Rainbow,” a tune primarily associated with the celluloid perennial The Wizard of Oz.

And for the first time, Incidental Hum’s aural economy impacts the ear as borderline rinky-dink, resonating like an auto-programmed instrument display in a shopping mall music store. And intentionally so; unquestionably curious, the gist is not accurately assessed as a misfire, but far more interesting is the aforementioned Eno cover, in part because of its “loner with a Casio” undercurrent. That atmosphere initially carries over to the closing treatment of Hendrix’s “Third Stone from the Sun,” though as the guitar explorations unfurl the oddball motions dissipate.

Unsurprisingly for a set wielding such detailed ambition, not everything is equally successful. But nothing actually falters either, and at 15 tracks deep that’s worthy of note. Furthermore, while Wheels in Motion was a fine album, it’s easy to assume its main audience was Feelies fans. Through the inspired cultivation of the unusual Incidental Hum has the potential to appeal to a wider cross-section of listeners; kudos to Glenn Mercer for taking creative chances this deep into a long-distinguished career.

GRADED ON A CURVE:
B+

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