The Explosives
press clipping
From the column, "Listen Here," published in
Metroland, Jan.
8-14, 1998
Selling Points
The Explosives shrug
off indie cred in favor of a pop-hook pitch
By John Rodat
We're gonna play a game. Here are the clues: They're a traditional four-piece setup--bass, drums, two guitars. The music is tight, the structure intricate but deceptively simple to listen to. It's a very purposeful simplicity, though, as the music is intended primarily as a vehicle with which to deliver the all-important melody and the not-merely-convenient lyrics. Many odd chords are voiced, but this is no jazz quartet; the rhythm section is sure and groove-capable, but this is no chugging heavy-rock band; distortion and squealing guitar leads abound, but they're no avant-noise troupe. Nope, they're a pop act through and through.
The band are fronted by their two songwriters. The bespectacled singer-songwriter has a lyrical penchant for social commentary and irony, while his counterpart tends more frequently toward the affairs of the heart (one hesitates to call them "silly love songs"). Now, the question is: Can you name that band?
Yes, it's Albany's own: the Explosives. Were you thinking of another more Liverpudlian Fab Four? No surprise--the comparisons are inevitable. In addition to the aforementioned and mainly circumstantial similarities, the Explosives' songs are, in a word, Beatlesque. Listen to the languid, ambiguous nihilism in "Blue on Blue," and you hear shades of "Strawberry Fields":
The song "Eleven" has an intro reminiscent of "Dear Prudence"; the arpeggios behind "Loud Strong Proud" have a bright Revolver ring to them; and throughout their work, the interplay of Rich Baldes' high, reedish voice and John Brodeur's lower-register belting is... you know. But, claims Brodeur, the root of this similarity is also coincidental in that the Explosives share with the Beatles an unwavering dedication to melody: "I think it's just that we get sick of hearing bands that don't have a concept of melody. You know, when you listen to the radio, how many songs can you hum along with? Chumbawumba?"
It's true that a number of more recent influences are evident--Guided by Voices and Pavement particularly--but Brodeur makes clear that the band would prefer the narrow comparison to blending unnoticed into the vast field of undifferentiated buzz-bands. "It's too formulaic. We try to avoid that," he says. "We might get a few Beatles references along the way, but I can't say that's bad." However, when asked to make the association more specific, Baldes sidesteps slightly: "I don't know... maybe there's two Pauls and no John." Brodeur, too, seems uninterested in belaboring the point, stating offhandedly, "Maybe we're both George."
The very willingness to speculate and to accept the comparison as fact betokens remarkable confidence in so new a band (the Explosives played their first gig in June [1998]). The good news is that it's the confidence of enthusiasm and love for one's work, rather than Oasis-style braggadocio. In fact, in the course of my conversation with them, they state their respect and appreciation for several local bands who might (by others) be regarded as competition. This sense of camaraderie may be due to the tangled nature of this band's family tree--even with the assistance of my interview notes, I can only tell you that among Baldes, Brodeur and the Delano brothers (bassist Mike and drummer Anthony), half a dozen or so previous bands are represented, among them Kid Dynamo, Nickel Social, Trunkapeet and Perry and the Redd Fox (if you want dates and durations, you'll have to ask the band yourself, 'cause to me it was about as clear as a David Lynch plot). Point is, the band members have had experience enough to realize that in the microcosm of local music what goes around, comes around--and quickly. So play nice.
Furthermore, the band acknowledge that the backbiting plaguing many scenes is often just envy. Brodeur is "sure is happens anywhere you go," he says. "The band that just got signed in New York City is getting, 'They sold out.'" Baldes is so much in agreement that the two finish the sentence in unison. Indicating his scorn fot that kind of indier-than-thou treachery, Baldes then adds, "We need to wear signs that say 'This band for sale.'"
What about street rep, indie cred, I ask. Baldes scoffs at the very notion: "It's over, long over." Againm the two concur. Brodeur states flatly, "Indie cred is for the Pixies." So what are the Explosives' ambitions? Baldes and Brodeur wax ecstatic:
JB: "I'm a really big fan of that major-label money thing."
RB: "He's a really big fan of the 48-track."
JB: "I was thinking of 'Blue on Blue.' What could make that song perfect? String orchestra, baby!"
RB: "Basically broad production ideas. Money, money, money."
When the band return from their mental vacation to Abbey Road Studios, I ask them their more immediate plans. Baldes, despite himself perhaps, offers a pretty indie answer: "I think the plan for a long time has been that we want to play out as much as we can. We just want to play out a lot." Anthony Delano pipes in, "And find some money." Everyone nods. "We want to find some money."
We all know that money can't buy you love and that only Michael Jackson's money can buy "Can't Buy Me Love," but if you have money and want to invest in a band you'll love, think of the Explosives. Classic lines, modern conveniences, low mileage. Band for sale!
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