The Loud Family does it on purpose

Interbabe Concern

Interbabe Concern (Alias)

"Everything on this album is on purpose." So say the liner notes to Interbabe Concern, and the line makes a better lead than anything I could muster.

The Loud Family arose from the ashes of Game Theory, who languished in obscurity during the '80s while managing five decent-to-good albums, all suffering from leader Scott Miller's untrained, ultra-fey voice and a dearth of real musical talent. Constant lineup changes led Miller to take a couple years off and, in 1992, rechristen his new lineup after the old PBS series, An American Family.

Their first album, Plants and Birds and Rocks and Things, was the apotheosis of Miller's pop instincts. Miller matured, both literally and figuratively: his voice finally broke and dropped a couple of octaves, and his songwriting became more complex and textured than ever.

Producer Mitch Easter (of Let's Active and Grover; he also co-produced R.E.M.'s first three albums) finally had enough raw material to sculpt into a sonic assault of loud, melodic guitars and insidious tunes.

All that, and the ultimate teen-angst self-pity song, "Slit My Wrists," make the first album one of the best America has produced this decade. After ten years in the unforgiving indie biz, Miller finally had won his wings, but no one cared. He continues to work a job as a computer programmer to support himself.

Interbabe Concern bears little resemblance to the finely-honed performances of the first album or the well-organized rock of the second, the slightly inconsistent The Tape of Only Linda (as in McCartney). The loss of over half of the original lineup, as well as Miller's self-production, contributes to thinner and more eccentric sounds. Miller's guitar rarely declaims itself with a lead role, instead hovering in the distance or smothering the sound with feedback. The impromptu lineups generally hold their own, with the exception of Dawn Richardson, of the rather unlamented Four Non-Blondes, who does a lousy impression of a drum machine on half of the tracks.

The Loud Family

Miller covers his losses in his typically quirky fashion. No drummer? No problem! "Screwed Over By Stylish Introverts" takes a fuming acoustic piece and overlays a thousand-and-one samples, all perfectly in time with the imagined beat. A drummer who thinks she's in Iron Maiden? Even better! "Top-Dollar Survivalist Hardware" begins with a hysterical call-and-response arena-rock parody before descending into verse: "Alexander lived in times before the Duke of Earl / The Greeks all told him that he threw the discus like a girl / He didn't have a healthy outlet for his anger so he took over the world."

Actually, that's about as clear-headed as the lyrics get. Oozing a bewildering but undeniable viciousness, the lyrics spit prolix tropes, rhyme "entropica" and "ebola," and encourage mile-long song titles. An acquired taste, you might say.

The songs themselves are among Miller's most disjointed, abruptly switching tempo, melody, and style in the best Chiltonian fashion. The stunning opener, "Sodium Laureth Sulfate," mixes in three or four vocal tracks, shambolic rhythms, and a, uh, surprise, before slowing down into harsh rhythm guitars and a sardonic chorus.

The music, however, doesn't quite reach the heights of Plants and Birds, partly because Miller, unlike Easter, doesn't bring out the hooks in his songs to their fullest. "Don't Respond, She Can Tell" is a wonderful Radio City-like piece of pop, but a few extra harmonies and a crystalline lead guitar would have made it a reason to live.

Despite the "on purpose" awkward production, the album maintains a consistent feel of real quality throughout. Unfortunately, the math-nerd design and the oddness of just about everything else won't help Miller sell many records. But you won't let that stop you, will you?

--David Auerbach