It's Good to See You're Back In a Bar Band, Baby: The Hold Steady

A few months ago I grabbed a handful cds from my former employer's promo bin with the passive intention of making a few dollars on a record review, or if nothing else, trading in for in-store credit. The results were even more marginal than expected, and with the exception of a handful of keepers (Camera Obscura, Ghost to Falco), most everything ended up in the "wouldn't keep it for free" stack.

wait, let me explain (as if it weren't self-evident)--when sorting promos, there are three distinct categories that I have developed for clear, organized pilings: the "I'd buy it used" pile (these are keepers), the "Maybe, since i'm not paying for it" pile, and the "wouldn't keep it for free" pile. Now, with this particular promo round, there weren't too many keepers, and even less maybes. among them was a CD by a band called The Hold Steady entitled Almost Killed Mean ugly-as-sin promo from hit-and-miss New York label Frenchkiss. It came on high recommendation, and despite a few reservations, I held on to it.

One day I played it for my roommate, and his reaction was classic: "This sounds like the kind of music that only bored music journalists could get into." There might be some truth to that. But I was sold.

Following the break-up of their Minneapolis powerhouse Lifter/Puller (whose fans are famously obsessive), singer Craig Finn and bassist Tad Kubler moved to New York, and soon formed The Hold Steady. If you're familiar with/not particularly moved by Lifter/Puller, don't be scared away immediately--I've never really been a fan either. But what might rightly scare you are following (and very apt) phrases: bitchin' licks, sax solos, and "positive jams." And, well, I certainly can't blame you.

The Hold Steady is a self-professed reactionary statement: upon moving to NY, the Lifter/Puller's felt incredibly alienated by the predictability of the NOW New York movement (electro/disco/no-wave), and committed themselves to the noble task of "not writing anything for the sake of being weird, artsy, or unconventional." The result is even less cool than you might imagine--some place between where Classic Rock meets Bar Band--but with surprising earnesty. Where bands like the Darkness embrace irony as a means of distancing themselves from the responsibility of sincerity, there isn't a moment of Almost Killed Me that comes off feeling contrived. And that includes songs that sound like Meatloaf anthems. and songs that sound like the E Street Band.

Now, you must remember: I hold no nostalgia what-so-ever for the majority of Classic Rock's musings, nor patience for irony-based musicianship, but for some reason, The Hold Steady really strike an unfamiliar chord with me. The thing that keeps the Hold Steady from toppling over into the ridiculousness of these seemingly insurmountable trappings are the rasped vocals of frontman Finn--a literate storyteller with rapid-fire, surprisingly compelling narratives. He's brash, abrasive, and funny, but never pandering. The result feels surprisingly like the better moments of their Minnesota brethren Husker Du, and their little brothers the Replacements, who are quite possibly the greatest Bar Band of all time.

So, while the Hold Steady may not be moving mountains, it's an admirable calling to take on the "silliest and most predictable musical movement since the third wave Ska revival of the late 90s"--however fruitlessly. Keep on keeping the 'Mats alive, Greatest Band Of All Time.