This is the second
moment moving through
the collection, landing
on a record made
by people I know.
And again, my main
connection here is
a bass player, one
David Gilde, also known
as Grilch. We met in
the early 90’s and
he played in my band
for a few years
a couple of different
times and has made
guest appearances
on our recordings as
late as a decade
ago. Another
musician making
a profound effect
on my own musical
development. I don’t
know what it is with
me and bass players.
I’ve hardly ever
played with one
I didn’t like, that
I didn’t take to
like a beloved sibling.
Maybe because
that’s how drums
and bass are supposed
to be together, or
maybe it’s about
my sonic preferences,
nothing against guitar
players, only that
I tend to gravitate
in my tastes toward
the low end. I appreciate
and love the instrument’s
potential, tapped by
a small handful of
great players. Also,
I know, it was just
dumb luck. I have
been dumb lucky
that my life has
been graced by
so many brilliant
bass players who
also happened to
be good, good people.
Grilch and I have in
common an affinity
for melody, but we like
it presented in the
weirdest of contexts.
Class M Planets makes
a weird kind of quiet
folk rock, hardly a single
distorted guitar, the
occasional synth part,
maybe a sax or a woodwind
here or there,
tasteful and understated
drums, and the bass
does exactly what is
needed for the song
and no more. It’s
a minimalist, alt
pop along the lines
of Pinback or Elliott
Smith. The band leader
here, one Adam Goldman,
the guitarist and singer,
sings softly, he never
shouts or hardly even
seems to be singing
in full voice. He (I think)
purposefully plays
fast and loose with notes,
an imprecision that
I find charming rather
than alarming. It feels
kind of like he’s trying
to tell you a secret,
kind of singing, kind of
speaking. His melodies are often
surprising, unpredictable,
and don’t quite follow
the standard structure
of most popular music.
Is this a verse or a chorus?
Is this a bridge? Or rather,
has there been simply
one part and then some
kind of change-up, a
different thing that can’t
be easily categorized?
Adam’s lyrics are
impressionistic, strange,
open for wide interpretation,
associative. Here’s one:
“Once upon a time Satan
be with you pink lemonade/
Hollow dried out tree in
your head.” Grammatically,
it doesn’t always scan–often
phrases are strung
together to make images
or impressions, but not
to articulate a narrative
or a particular point of view:
that’s up to you, listener.
And that’s fine. I really dig
this music. I’ve seen them
play live a couple of times
and the music translates
well to the stage and won’t
make you deaf. I’m a fan of
both Class M Planets and
of not going deaf.
Notes on the vinyl edition: Ravenswood, Treefort Lounge Records, 2019, light blue translucent vinyl.
FYI: I’m listening to everything, A to Z, and writing a long skinny poem-like-thing in response for each artist. These things look like a duck, but they don’t quack like a duck.
michael jarmer 