Jetset
2003
{5.0}
Firewater is an odd band, a bundle of contradictions, a curious attempt to fuse radio-ready hard rock with more arty and scattered influences, and the fact that it works even half the time is, frankly, staggering. Formed by ex-Cop Shoot Cop bassist Tod A., the band integrates an intriguing mix of hard rock, punk, pop, (and here’s where it gets really odd) klezmer, Tom Waits, and circus music, all in a sound that somehow never strays far from the eminently listenable. At times, the band seems too content to simply veer back and forth between styles from track to track, never really blending it all together in a way that feels natural — the confusion of styles does create a satisfyingly jarring, swirling carnival atmosphere, though, and if the record never quite coheres as a whole, there’s plenty of dazzling spectacles to behold along the way.
The brightest of these gems is, without a doubt, “Dark Days Indeed,” a satisfyingly raved-up klezmer stomp with insistent accordion riffs, ethnic guitar, snapping percussion, and Tod A.’s gruff, world-weary vocals. His lyrics bring to mind Tom Waits, painting detailed (but never as detailed as Waits at his most poetic) portraits of down-and-out loser characters, while his gravelly rasp sounds a bit like the Black Rider in his younger years. The spirited gypsy riot of “Dark Days,” with its infectious shout-along group chants, belies the grim subject matter, and it’s a breakneck romp that’s easily the most fun and exciting song on the album.
This standout is followed immediately by the title track, a full-on circus theme that musically summons the image of a precariously balanced tightrope walker about to fall to his doom, as Tod A.’s deadpan circus barker drawls out the lyrics, his voice dripping with barely veiled sarcasm and sinister glee. Other songs similarly employ this kind of slightly kitschy instrumentation, and it’s a quirky style that Firewater are particularly great at nailing to the wall. “The Notorious Dog & Pony Show” slows things down to a stop-start barroom crawl that sounds like an Old West piano balladeer augmented by a badly awry modern bar band, while “The Vegas Strip” appropriately houses big, sappy Wayne Newton arrangements in a punky stomper.
When the band plays it straighter, though, they’re not quite as successful. “Anything At All” is one of the few exceptions, an insistent Alice In Chains-ish rocker powered by warm keyboards Tod A.’s best vocals on the album, and a killer bridge where everything cuts out save a heavenly-sounding keyboard choir and Tod’s distant-sounding vox. On the bland “Don’t Make It Stop,” though, the band skips over AIC and heads straight for their imitators with a meaningless chant backed by crunchy guitars — can you say “grab for radio?” And “Too Much (Is Never Enough)” is a bit too close to Smashmouth for comfort, though the distorted recorder solo is a nice touch. The rest of the album is often simply pleasant but unexceptional, as with the somewhat boring “Too Many Angels” (which nonetheless boasts fine production) or the brief acoustic ballad “The Song That Saved My Life.” The album also ends with what’s essentially an extended coda of half-songs, including a light-hearted instrumental reprise of “Dark Days Indeed” (they must’ve known it was their best song), and two more undistinguished circus music instrumentals.
The Man On the Burning Tightrope is an incredibly confounding album. The highs are very high, the lows are absolutely miserable, and this is a band clearly capable of much, much more. The problem seems to be that the band is never really embracing the inherent weirdness of their sound. Their pop sensibilities, when put to good use, temper the weirdness of a song like “Dark Days Indeed” with vibrant melodies and clever arrangements, and the result is a joy. The rest of the time, though, they play it safe, throwing out radio-friendly rock that hardly fits the drunken, hallucinatory, kaleidoscopic image formed by the band’s best material. Not un-coincidentally, “Dark Days” is also the song where all the band’s disparate influences and styles seem to come together in one place. The rest of the record splits everything apart — the circus on this track, hard rock on the next, goth ballad on the next — fracturing a potentially unique composite sound into merely the sum of its uneven parts.