As elderly statesmen of noise pop and experimental rock, Sonic Youth are always welcome in my overflowing CD racks. But to be honest, they had not really gotten my heart racing, aside from “Diamond Sea” on 1995’s Washing Machine, since 1988’s Daydream Nation. The albums were good enough not to damage their status as one of America’s best bands, but A Thousand Leaves (’98) and NYC Ghosts & Flowers (’00) did get a bit dour and dull at times. A few things happened to invigorate the band. They recorded a series of experimental sides released on their independent SYR label, culminating in the breathtaking tribute to modern classical composers, Goodbye 20th Century.
Every single one of their guitars that were preset to the various odd tunings they’ve developed over the years, were stolen. Production and avant-guitar guru Jim O’Rourke became a full-fledged member. And their practice space on Murray Street was destroyed on September 11. And so from loss and change and destruction comes renewed passion and energy. The songs on Murray Street are shimmering, emotional powerhouses. The instrumentation is unusually spare and clean, melodic and direct, leaving the few forays into feedback all the more captivating. “The Empty Page” starts things off with some of Thurston Moore’s most expressive singing in years, rekindling the excitement that had been smouldering since the firestarter “Teenage Riot.” The three-guitar freakout is short and to the point, and the song tapers off with a singular, chiming guitar. “Disconnection Notice” is more sprawling, but equally sensual and sonorous. “Rain On Tin” starts with their most menacing, minor-key chords since 1985’s Bad Moon Rising and evolves into an epic guitar showcase, reaching a breathtaking crescendo, settling into a rhythmic cascade. It’s no less than one of the few songs of the last 25 years to successfully follow-up on Television’s glorious masterpiece, “Marquee Moon.”
After three winners, you’d think these old-timers would let up for a breather, yet “Karen Revisited” is just as captivating, with Lee Renaldo’s vocals dualing with a snakey guitar riff that expands gradually until you’re bathed in stardust and experiencing some sort of cosmic rebirth a lá 2001 A Space Odyssey. “Radical Adults Lick Godhead Style” and “Plastic Sun” are more down-to-earth rockers turn down the intensity, but still noticeably benefit from O’Rourke’s production and guitar contributions. The album closes with its longest cut, the 12+ minute “Sympathy for the Strawberry.” It’s perhaps their biggest departure, with Kim Gordan purring and rubbing up against a slinky, insistent Al Jackson (Al Green) sexbeat, while a tremulous guitar breeds and multiplies into a viscous symphony. While paying tribute to a place, Sonic Youth have fallen in love with sound again. It sounds too good to be true, doesn’t it? Hear for yourself.
