Review Summary: There's a thousand things I wish I'd said and done.
If every album had an opening track like “Brassneck,” the world might genuinely be a better place. It’s a song that practically clubs you in the face with every Wedding Present-ism you could think of: Jangling guitars, lead singer David Gedge’s nasally vocals, and a hook so good it could save your soul. That’s 1989’s Bizarro in a nutshell right there. It doesn’t matter what my mood is when I put it on; every time I do, I get a defibrillator shock to the heart. You just want to jump out of your seat and punch the air whenever you hear songs like “Crushed” and “Granadaland.” Every part of the band leads the other, until it manifests into manic pop perfection.
However, underneath it’s candy-coated shell, Bizarro is a distinctly bitter album. The entire 47-minute runtime is about breakups, relationship issues, affairs; pretty much every topic you’d typically avoid when penning the lyrics to your energetic jangle pop record. I’m not saying there aren’t examples of these themes in indie pop albums prior or subsequently, but they were usually more common with the lusher, slower-tempo-ed acts of the time. But the Wedding Present doesn’t care. If you took this album at face-value, based solely on the lyrics, you’d think this was plucked straight out of someone’s diary. Take the pensive “What Have I Said Now?,” where our narrator gets caught by his significant other looking at another woman. Throughout the song’s runtime, he constantly puts his foot in his mouth, making the situation worse and worse until he just gives up and leaves. See, you don’t root for the narrator in a song like this. Or, at least I don’t. But you’re sort of a voyeur into this very awkward relationship dispute. Even though it’s a song sung only from one person’s perspective, the conversation within feels so realistic. Not modeling a healthy relationship, but definitely one that’s existed. Made all the more immersive with Gedge’s flourishes of nervous, blabbering speak-singing. And ending the whole argument with a blast of noise pop is just perfect, representing stewing feelings of agitation without saying a word.
There are other examples I could go into, of course, but the point is: this album is ugly in a lot of ways. And I think that’s why its endured as long as it has for me. Now, you know I love my jangle/twee, but one criticism that’s levied upon those genres often that I can at least understand is that it’s just too damn happy. Happy, cuddly, fluffy bunnies frolicking in a big, sunny field. Not a care in the world. Love is all you need. I’d die for you, sweetheart. That’s just too much for some people, and I get that. So if that list made you want to vomit, then you’ll be in good company with the Wedding Present’s unique blend of marital discord and sarcasm. That’s not to say they don’t throw in a mushy song for the star-crossed lover audience (“Take Me!”), but for the most part, it’s all drama. Raucous, danceable, lovely drama.
I said at the beginning that the opener hits you hard right off the bat, and I wasn’t kidding. Note that I didn’t mention that “Brassneck” is about two lovers drifting apart at the beginning of my review, with one ready to move on and one still firmly stuck in the past. Depending on where you are in your life, I’m sure you’ve been or will be on both sides of that situation. So yes, while this whole album is a joy to listen to and perfection instrumentally, the real magic is how the music works with the personal, sometimes uncomfortable lyrics that they surround. Bizarro’s the giddiest gut-punch you’ll ever get.
