Some of us remember
a band from the early to mid 90’s
called Tripping Daisy. They
had a hit called “I Got A Girl,”
a super silly but super catchy
post-punk, grunge-adjacent tune right
along the lines of The Flaming
Lips’ “She Don’t Use Jelly.”
This was their only hit. I liked
the song but never bought the
album. I think, after a friend
loaned it to me for a listen,
I dismissed them and their singer
Tim DeLaughter (what a curious
last name!) as a bone-headed,
goofy, unserious group of musicians.
Not unlike what happened to me
with The Flaming Lips, discovering
them later as a totally different
and unrelated thing that was far
superior to the earliest offerings,
somehow I discovered Tim DeLaughter’s
new and massive project, The Polyphonic
Spree, and found the endeavor compelling,
over-the-top ambitious, and as far
away from “I Got A Girl” as one could
possibly get, as far away as “The
Spider Bite Song” or “Do You Realize”
are from “She Don’t Use Jelly.”
Let me try to describe the transformation.
Tim DeLaughter went from the front man of
a snarky, almost novelty rock band to the
leader of what the equivalent in rock music
might be to a full-on orchestra with a choir.
He assembled a shifting “band” of about 23
musicians. They wore robes.
The music was ambitious,
almost progressively so. They sang songs
that were not religious, but uplifting and
aspirational. It was psychedelic,
philosophical, melodically akin to church
music, but without any other ideology or
dogma than individual uplift and community
building. It sounds hokey seven ways to
Sunday, but somehow, it was not. At least
I found it substantially un-hokey, enough
to have collected almost all of their records.
Their output has not been prolific.
In 21 years they have released only
seven full-length albums. Between the
CD collection and the vinyl,
I have every album from The Polyphonic
Spree except for one record of original
tunes and a Christmas themed record.
In the vinyl collection I have two of
their albums separated from each other
by an entire decade. Why I took such an
extended break from them, I can’t be sure.
But I was excited to listen to them again,
and I begin this morning with their 2013
album, Yes, It’s True. This is a record
I don’t know well–couldn’t have hummed
a single tune before spinning it today,
but it’s strong, upbeat, big, feel-good
music, toe-tapping, melodic, and
lyrically of a piece with the rest of
the catalog–life-affirming, positive,
aspirational, joyful. As I listen,
I remember some of these tunes–they
are memorable, hooky–it’s just that for some
reason, when the album was new to me,
settling into a new home, not having
a way to listen on the go (no download
card, and not yet subscribed to streaming
services), I did not listen repeatedly.
And possibly, too, new as I was to
collecting records seriously again,
I had acquired too many records at one
time! The horror! At any rate, I’m
deciding that this is a good record to
bring out of the stacks more often!
Ten years later, Salvage Enterprise
is not nearly as rocking, but for my
money, it might be my favorite
album from The Polyphonic Spree.
It’s more reflective, contemplative,
progressive, orchestral, and certainly,
more melancholy. That optimism is now
channeled through the realization, that
in 2023, we are entering some pretty
dark times–again. “Hold yourself above
the storm, keep yourself above the
waves,” sings the choir in the first
tune on the album, “Galloping Seas.”
In fact this whole record, in its
tone and thematic arc, seems to be
about transcending the ugliness of
our time–not by wearing the rose-
colored glasses represented perhaps
by DeLaughter’s earlier efforts with
The Spree, but by focusing on what
we can control–in our communities,
in our immediate circles, and internally.
It’s a beautiful record, that if you
are open and susceptible, like I have
been over the last few years, will
put you in your feelers. I recommend
having a hanky handy.
Notes on the vinyl editions:
- Yes, It’s True, Kirtland Records, 2013, opaque blue-green vinyl.
- Salvage Enterprise, Good Records Recording, 2023, opaque yellow vinyl.
In case you don’t already know: I’m listening to almost everything in my vinyl collection, A to Z, and writing at least one, sometimes two or three long skinny poem-like-things in response for each artist, and on a few occasions, writing a long skinny poem-like-thing in response to more than one artist. As a poet and a student of poetry, I understand that these things look like poems, but they don’t really sound much like poetry, hence, I call them “poem-like-things.” I’ll admit that they’re just long, skinny essays that veer every now and then into the poetic or lyric.
