A review like this requires several disclaimers. First off, nobody really takes these things seriously. Not the editors, not the reviewers and certainly not you, the readers. I have yet to see a single Might record review authored by a band member that was actually a substantive critique of another artists’ work. From best I can tell, it’s viewed a a great way to get free exposure for one’s own product, rather than an opportunity for a unique critical analysis from the artists’s perspective. 

 In that light, I should mention that it’s not considered good form in this industry to be caught dissing anybody, especially  anybody else’s record. If you do have a strong opinion that is outside of the mainstream (and that’s where this whole “alternative” thing is friends), you will invariably be portrayed as equal parts pompous and boorish. Publicists love controversy, but take a dim view to candor and that’s probably why you only see pointless fluff workouts on this page.

 Secondly, I’m  puzzled as to why I, possibly one of the most crusty, out-of-touch iconoclasts of my generation and subsequently the one person most likely not to like this record, would be asked to comment on it’s contents.  It would seem as though the editors have it out for this group. 

 I must say that though I’ve never had the pleasure to meet Big Mountain in person that I‘m certain they’re nice enough fellows who come from good homes to whom I bear no malice. I’m not terribly certain, however, what musical and or market goals were being met in the making of this product. My final disclaimer is that if you like Big Mountain, you should probably move on to the next review. 

 For the patina of journalistic integrity, I promised myself to listen to the tape at least twice straight through, partly to put myself in the consumers shoes and secondly just so I could say I had. Upon the conclusion of the first track, my girlfriend made me go out and listen in the truck. The production value lost nothing in the transfer from home to car stereo, but alas, the good news ends here. 

 In the two go-rounds, I found the songwriting to be an unpleasant mix of maudlin cliche’ and shallowness with a strong emphasis on dumb. I would reprint a few choice lyrical gems from “A Band Called Bud” for example, but I would feel really stupid repeating them. The music is further crippled by an unconvincing and plodding performance, recalling everything I didn’t like about 70’s rock (imagine if you will,  a blind drunk Crazy Horse, sans Neil Young, attempting  to sound like Kansas. This is not a compliment). The kindest description I can muster is “acoustic, hard-pop, with an edge”, for those of you in need of a jingoistic catch phrase to influence your purchase. 

 I’m so totally uninspired by the sounds here that I can barely justify writing about it. I can only assume that the grading scale in the music business is really low  these days, as this record doesn’t even qualify in my definition of music. But then again, I stopped listening to “college radio” when I dropped out of college 10 years ago, so what do I know?

Mark Rubin
totally out there on his own and in no way representing the views of his band
6/5/95