SUPERCHUNK: TOSSING SEEDS (SINGLES 89-91)
ALBUM REVIEW: Superchunk's early singles compilation from 1992 breaks all the rules of a compilation. It doesn't feel like a cash-in - it feels compiled considerately for the benefit of the fans...
SUPERCHUNK: TOSSING SEEDS (SINGLES 89-91)
MERGE/CITY SLANG RECORDS
1992
I intensely dislike compilation albums for reasons I’ve documented here previously, but briefly - they usually feel like cash-ins that lack the substance of an album full of new songs, with a carefully considered running order of showers and growers - the first to grab your attention, the second to keep it.
A well arranged track-listing, with a deliberate flow is truly a thing of beauty. Comps lack that integrity. Even worse, multi-band samplers or anthologies.
Anyway - there are, of course, a few exceptions that prove the rule - and Tossing Seeds by Superchunk is one of them. It collects their early singles - the first six (including a split) and even though every track is vibrant and notable on its own, they hang together as an album perfectly. It doesn’t occur to you that you’re listening to a chronological collection. It just works.
That fact might be helped by Superchunk being a singles band. They have released some truly impeccable seven inch, two minute blasts of indie-punk - but the band rarely translates so compellingly in the context of an LP to me. They can feel a bit by-the-numbers, with album tracks often lacking the hooks or the punch of the singles, even after repeat listens.
All of which is academic anyway, because we are gathered here today to consider what may well be the finest collection of singles ever committed to a slab of twelve inch vinyl.
From the initial snare snap of What Do I, their debut single from 1989, when they were still called Chunk*, with its descending chords structure and the yearning wail of Mac’s lead guitar, we’re buckled in for the ride. All the tropes are there in their well-formed debut - the Mac’s seering guitar leads, Laura’s growling bass, Jack’s rhythm guitar and Chuck’s drums. They were barely 20 years old but they already knew how to write a good tune.
One of the coolest thing about Superchunk is the backing vocals - Mac is sometimes supported by Laura - and it gives that same Pixies-esque echo that we got from the first RFTC album, if you read that article.
If you didn’t, click here - it might appeal. It’s from a similar time, just a different coast:
RFTC: Paint As A Fragrance on Vinyl Vault
“What do I get out of this? I wish I knew!”
Next up is that song’s B-Side, which, as you will see across all these singles, implies no ranking whatsoever. This initial run should have been listed as having AA sides, just to ensure no priority was given, because in every case, the songs stack up against each other as Even-Stevens.
The stop-start dynamics of My Noise work wonders. The verses mostly given over to just a winding guitar lead and Mac’s voice before crashing into the chorus:
“It is stoopid, it is my noise!”
A clarion call for punkers everywhere.
Track three is a cover of The Shangri-La’s Train From Kansas City. Amazingly, a B-Side for them too, albeit 24 years before *Chunk’s re-appropriation.
Here the Motowny vibe is retained, but bedded firmly in a wash of distortion that makes it feel more of a pastiche than a cover. It suits them down to the ground.
The fourth song is really what you’ve come for. Slack Motherfucker, the band’s de facto anthem stills stand up today as a spit and bile retort to authoritarian middle management. It’s a jubilant single finger that raises spirits, heckles and a single digit at the same time with its weird dual-perspective, hostile and confessional lyrics, all of which goes out the window the moment you hear:
“I’m working, but I’m not working for you…
No! - Slack Motherfucker!”
And your fist pumps the air, your blood surges through your veins and you’re back resenting the first job you ever had and it’s worthless, hypocritical and power-hungry arsehole of a boss.
Or perhaps that just me.
Maybe I have issues, after all…
That perfect single has the sarcastic Night Creatures on the flip - and I remember exactly where I was when I first heard it.
WHY DIDN’T THAT FLAT HAVE ANY HEATING?!?
The rolling riff and tongue-in-cheek lyrics makes it feel more cute Pumpkin Hallowe’en Lantern than stalky Michael Myers, but again it’s an anthem that rattles around your head as you take the long walk into town on a Friday evening:
“We’re Night Creatures - and it’s so nice!”
It’s another cover, originally by The Flys.
I never knew that until now. It fits in with the Superchunk oeuvre seamlessly.
Garlic is the next song. Originally Superchunk’s contribution to a three-band split single with Geek and Seaweed, it’s the one song on here that doesn’t quite stand up to scrutiny.
Don’t get me wrong - in other circumstances, it’s a good ‘un, but in this company, it’s pretty clearly the weakest on the album; too dirgy. All the others are uplifting and celebratory, even if they’re not happy or smiley.
Before we know we have time to feel disgruntled, Fishing begins with a feedback wail and launches into it first verse and rousing, high velocity chorus:
“It’s not your point I’m missing - you’re just fishing!”
It sets the scene for the incendiary run we’re about to experience when you flip the record over.
Hot on its heels, the immaculate second side (good name for a band) begins with Cool, probably the biggest earworm for me on the entire LP - it stays, without rent (but somehow welcome), deep down in the well of my brain for at least a week after every run-through. A lesser tune would be an irritation. It’s the instrumental lull before the chorus that builds the anticipation so well before the nagging refrain kicks in and stays with us for (nearly) forever:
“There’s nothing new - nothing’s new;
Everything’s borrowed, everything’s used
There’s nothing new…
… But we know it’s cool!”
As the discordant back fades from earshot, Breadman, the next turbo-paced offering starts up with a rumbling bass line and shattering guitars.
Those out of key high notes are back in the chorus - what seems to be a repetitious hymn to a record label executive. Perhaps it’s Mac’s commentary on being courted by cigar chompers, as so many of our indie heroes were at the time.
If Cool is the earworm, Cast Iron is my favourite. From the distorted verse vocals with barely any backing, to the hopeful yearning of the big “aaahh!” that beckons the chorus:
“I'll tell you from my front porch
I'll tell you from my cast iron chair
I'll tell you about my visitors
I only wish you were there…
The man in the airplane was looking for you”
It’s crafted so well - with its lulls and highs. I love it.
But Seed Toss is next:
“I’ll stick a stick in your spokes
You’d better laugh at my jokes.
You’d better memorise this face
You’d better stay in my good graces!”
I think someone somewhere could trace the origins of emo back to this song. It seemed to spawn a genre - if not a hearty number of well-meaning copyists - listen to Archers of Loaf and Small Brown Bike and see how much they sound like they used Seed Toss for a blueprint. Arguably, the same could be said for Pavement. From there the whole exasperating lo-fi original emo sound - Get Up Kids, The Promise Ring, Jets to Brazil etc. - it all feels like it comes from Seed Toss.
The album finishes with two Sebadoh covers - both of which, for me, beat the originals. They’re less dribbly - they unlock the power of the songs and it’s to their benefit. The leads wail, the vocals bounce in and out of tune - and altogether, we’re left - again - with the sense that a perfectly chosen cover can sound like a band’s catalogue song.
Both It’s So Hard To Fall In Love and Brand New Love do that in excelsis.
Once Tossing Seeds dissolves to the rotational hiss and click of the run out groove, you’re left satisfied. Content that you’ve just sat through a near perfect run of songs that really demonstrates how fruitful those first couple of years were for an unassuming band from Chapel Hill.
My copy is a red vinyl first pressing that I bought at the time. Unassuming in its brilliance. Limited to 3000 copies. Probably three times more than a Superchunk pressing would be in its entirety these days.
Makes you realise how many more records bands sold in the 90s.
They’re still making magic now, thirty - odd years later, but it would take a particularly strong argument to convince me they’ve ever created a better album than this collection of singles.
I actively encourage you to dig it out and have a go yourself. Put the effort in, garner the reward.
There’s no advantage to being slack, motherfucker.
“It’s definitely time to destroy this place…”
Another review written beautifully
I still listen to this band regularly. I’m hoping if I continue to read your reviews I rediscover an old favourite or stumble across a new band
This record, or more specifically, "Fishing" was my on-ramp to the entire Chapel Hill scene. Archers of Loaf...The Veldt...I wouldn't have ever heard any of that w/o this band.