Review Summary: Now I'm not like this, I'm really kind of shy...
Brad Delp’s suicide was recently acknowledged by many fans of his first project, the famous Boston. He was found in his dwelling dead, poisoned by carbon monoxide from numerous charcoal grills that he had set up. And still, the radio still booms the nostalgic, perky rock-tunes of Boston’s opus eponymous. The passion seems timeless -- Delp’s incredible vocal range, Tom Sholz’s superior multi-instrumental aesthetic and the unified fury of the album makes it accessible, gratifying and age-ridden. However, the funny thing about it is as forward and clear
Boston seems to be, it still seems to have an extremely hidden trait, and that is its ultimate dissatisfaction and introversion that it suggests.
One only has to examine the extremely shy and, at times, kind of misanthropic lyrical content of the LP to realize that this is very cynical: “I looked out this morning and the sun was gone / Turned on some music to start my day”, from opener “More Than a Feeling” is, hidden by the facade of music, very depressed. The song tells of a character Marianne, who, having “slipped away”, caused a morbid depression in the lyricist. And still, this song is played on every radio show as the polar opposite of its suggestions: A RADIO ANTHEM. Yes, this song’s melancholia was synthesized by the mainstream into a euphemism of its original message.
Moving on,
Boston exhibits its annoyance with people in general on “Peace of Mind”, a song which is played in the same fashion of the aforementioned song. “And you wanna run but somehow you just keep on stayin' / Can't decide on which way to go… People livin' in competition / All I want is to have my peace of mind” almost foreshadows the vocalist’s suicide. Concealed in extremely uplifting music, Boston’s debut is not an album which in any way is akin to a good time. Lyrical excerpts from the third song, jazzy “Foreplay/Long Time”, are exceedingly reclusive: “It's been such a long time / I think I should be goin'… Wish there was something I could say… You'll forget about me after I've been gone”, libretto which brings
Boston into deep summation.
“Smokin’”, a relatively happy song (“We're gonna play you a song, a little bit of rock & roll / You gotta let yourself go, the band's gonna take control”) is only achieved through the leafy medium it supports. Succeeding this is “Hitch a Ride”, the pinnacle of Delp’s ultimate suicidality: “Gonna hitch a ride / Head for the other side / Leave it all behind.”
Boston’s romantic insecurity is reached on stalker-ish closer “Let Me Take You Home Tonight” (“I’ve watched you for so long / that I feel I’ve known you”). This album ends in extreme dissatisfaction and pitiful begging.
This reviewer is very confused about the ideas that Boston suggests, but it seems like Delp’s suicide is essentially planned on an album produced 31 years beforehand. Every single song on the collection is played on FM radio regularly as refreshing, the listeners unaware of the dispelling insecurity and misanthropy of it all. All I can say is they hid it well.
7.1/10
