Review Summary: Mission statement.
Polka’s Not Dead may be the definitive work of the Dreadnoughts, just for the fact that it announced the rather ambitious claim that polka, the band’s beloved music and dance form,
never dies. Seen in light of the band’s later work,
Polka’s Not Dead is more scattershot, jumping from locale to locale in finding the identity of an individual song, but it’s arguably the clearest bearer of a mission statement: to gather a diverse range of influences from European folk traditions, and then fit them all into punk’s rhythmic framework to create one explosive package.
I’d say that
Polka’s Not Dead doesn’t take itself too seriously - it’s full of irony, esoteric references coming out of nowhere (e.g. Soren Kierkegaard in a love song), and fantastical, stomping romps across seas and countrysides. To paraphrase a comment I once saw, the vocals are reminiscent of those of a pirate on psychedelics. But to accuse the album of flippancy is disingenuous in at least two ways: one, that the Dreadnoughts really do seem to be dedicated to the cause of polka music; and two, that the musicianship itself is dead serious. The pressing question seems to be this: why should we, in the 21st century, care about polka, or indeed about the folkloric nature of
Polka’s Not Dead? To name a few allusions, there’s the fast-paced, leaping Finnish humppa; the rolling sea shanty of “Randy Dandy-Oh”; the Québécois twist of “Poutine”. Place names, language usage, and committing to the structures of dance forms: there’s a good deal of attention to detail when it comes to evoking the foreign, both spatially and temporally (keeping in mind that the Dreadnoughts are from modern-day Vancouver). Cultural window dressing this is not.
A speculative note on why
Polka’s Not Dead is so immediately accessible: there’s something familiar about polka, nimble Celtic fiddling, joyful accordion chords, that has nothing to do with their prevalence in current music trends. It might be an appeal to a Western collective consciousness that maintains snippets of these elements -- maybe I heard the passing tunes of a St. Patrick’s Day parade, maybe there was a period drama that took place in 19th century Eastern Europe. If this sounds like it’s applicable to just about any band that draws from such influences, it probably is -- but I do wonder if the Dreadnoughts took advantage of this familiarity in a way that allowed them to play more aggressively than their contemporaries (e.g. The Real McKenzies, The Mahones). For instance, “Gintleman’s Club” charges forward viciously with background howls and rapid-fire drumming; it also contains a hilariously roundabout way of promoting its namesake beverage (“Mother Mary, Aphrodite, Shiva / won’t compare to Lady Geneva).
To return to the pressing question, I think it’s worthwhile to explore “Polka Never Dies”. It’s effectively a turbo-charged polka song, animated by a bouncing 2/4 beat and interjecting accordion, and it feels wonderfully anachronistic: “indie hipster darlings”, “emo”, and “screamo” are mentioned in the same context as polka, after all. To restate the main premises of the song: we should care about polka because it has survived throughout the years, and will outlive whatever fads we’re currently attached to (presumably with the help of those who aim to keep it alive). And it’s just hell of a good time.
It’s worth noting that “Polka Never Dies”, along with peers such as “Cider Road” and “West Country Man”, almost seem to be trying to establish mythoi, however tongue-in-cheek the effort may be: “Cider Road” is a quasi-Biblical journey involving the forbidden fruit and watching cities falling into the dust; “West Country Man” espouses an agrarian archetype; and “Polka Never Dies” wants to transcend the rise-fall cycle that befalls all the other narratives. It’s not that being intoxicated on stomping rhythms and sweet sing-along harmonies will necessarily draw your attention to these themes. But their boldness alone leaves an indelible mark, and they flesh out the jaunty nature of the music -- there’s more to a drunken scholar than meets the eye, if one would just hear what he had to say.
Polka’s Not Dead may lack the thematic sophistication and cohesion of
Foreign Skies, the Dreadnoughts’ 2017 release, but it still manages to flourish through its lack of inhibition. It’s a tall tale that you should believe in.
