In 1976, after relocating to California and hooking up with Beserkely Records, proud New Englander Jonathan Richman released his first full-length. The sound of that record is markedly different from the post-Velvets rock & roll an earlier incarnation of the Modern Lovers recorded as demos, material released posthumously that endures as Richman’s most celebrated work. Next to it, Richman’s proper debut remains somewhat divisive, even all these decades later. Omnivore Recordings kicks off its reissue series of the Beserkely albums on August 19 with Jonathan Richman & the Modern Lovers, available on vinyl and compact disc.
The demo material released on The Modern Lovers, recorded partly with producer John Cale in 1971-’72 and released in August ’76, and The Original Modern Lovers, recorded with producer Kim Fowley in ’73 and released in ’81, serves as a crucial chapter in the saga of proto-punk, but by the late ’80s, when I was introduced to Richman’s work, his reputation had fallen to something of a low point, as he was dismissed by many as an affected eccentric who’d undercut his early achievements with a predilection for childlike whimsy.
Released in July of 1976, Jonathan Richman’s debut album wasn’t his first material to see release, as there had been a few singles, amongst them the eternally life-affirming VU-channeling brilliance of “Roadrunner” (released in ’75), plus a handful of songs on the Beserkely Chartbusters compilation (also ’75), but it’s safe to surmise that Jonathan Richman & the Modern Lovers served as many listener’s introduction to the guy.
And I’m guessing that when Beserkely put out The Modern Lovers the following month, it was likely that the two records simply registered as opposing sides of the same coin. But flash forward a decade, and for folks who’d been blown away by The Modern Lovers and The Original Modern Lovers, and who’d sought out or stumbled upon Jonathan Richman & the Modern Lovers, the reaction might’ve been similar to Greil Marcus’ response after hearing Bob Dylan’s Self Portrait (that would be: “What is this shit?”).
Again, I speak from experience on this matter. For many, there was the problem of Richman being childlike, a quality most intensely apparent in side two’s consecutive numbers “Abominable Snowman in the Market,” “Hey There Little Insect,” and “Here Come the Martian Martians.” In this, Richman was frequently blamed for much of the subsequent u-ground-indie scene’s gestures toward childhood (or maybe we should say innocence), but what’s different, as least on this album, is how the thrust is closer to songs written for kids (like, a children’s album, ya’ dig?) rather than by kids.
But there is also the reality of Richman being generally out-of-step with typical R&R norms. Sure, this situation carries over from the early Modern Lovers stuff, but is here taken to extremes: a song sung from the perspective of a building? That’s opener “Rocking Shopping Center.” Unabashed odes to locales big and small (rather than complaining about or trying to escape where you’re stuck at)? That’s “New England,” a cover of Chuck Berry’s “Back in the U.S.A.” and even the comparatively melancholy “Lonely Financial Zone.”
How about enthusiasms over seasons and states of being? That’s “Springtime” and “Amazing Grace,” respectively. And love songs of uncommon tenderness and awkwardness? “Important in Your Life” and “Hi Dear” have that covered in spades. Again, it’s not that these are new developments in Richman’s scheme, as the early Modern Lovers could be plenty awkward and took particular pride in being out-of-step (compared to you know, Hippy Johnny), but there is the matter of rocking to consider.
The early Modern Lovers stuff was never brawny, but even the most upbeat and urgent Jonathan Richman & the Modern Lovers songs register as skeletal in a manner that ensured eventual cult status rather than widespread popularity. To put a finer point on it, there are no consensus anthems on this album. What there is however, is a mess of memorable songs delivered with the confidence of a guy totally comfortable with who he is.
And here’s the kicker: having soaked up Jonathan Richman’s lucid observations in Todd Haynes’ recent documentary The Velvet Underground, it hit me more than ever that the man is a R&R survivor who did it largely on his own terms, and I found it impossible to not admire the guy. Upon giving Jonathan Richman & the Modern Lovers a few fresh spins, it will still never be my favorite of his albums, but my appreciation for it has significantly grown.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
