Published on Mar 13, 2000
In some ways, Extreme was a band who never got the recognition
they truly deserved. Musically, they often proved themselves to be
a sharp group, thanks in no small part to the work of vocalist Gary
Cherone and guitarist Nuno Bettencourt. Maybe they were stigmatized
by the success they eventually had with two ballads, “More Than
Words” and “Hole Hearted” – a fate that sunk other bands of that
time, like Mr. Big (who are still together) and Saigon Kick.
But in other ways, Extreme might have been so much hype. They
never were able to repeat the success they had with
Extreme II: Pornograffiti, former members have had
difficulties with post-Extreme work (I’m not commenting on drummer
Pat Badger’s new project, only because I have yet to listen to it),
and most of their albums have disappeared into the realms of
obscurity.
The group’s self-titled debut from 1989 has moments of
brilliance, but to borrow a phrase a certain TV show once used,
Extreme often sounds like they’re not quite ready for prime
time.
In a way, this disc tries to mimic some of the biggest cliches
in rock at that time. You have your song that sounds like it was
lifted from Nazareth’s “Hair Of The Dog” (“Flesh ‘N’ Blood”), you
have your stereotypical paeans to good ol’ T&A (“Teacher’s
Pet”), you have your Van Halen-clone (uh, maybe we shouldn’t go
there) in “Mutha (Don’t Want To Go To School Today)”, and you have
Bettencourt proving he studied the Eddie Van Halen book on guitar
licks. You even have the sign of things that were to come in the
ballads department with tracks like “Watching, Waiting” and “Rock A
Bye Bye”.
Okay, sounds as if all I’m gonna do is piss and moan about this
album, right? Well, maybe for a little longer. Extreme’s
songwriting shows that there is still some work that was needed on
tracks like “Big Boys Don’t Cry” and “Play With Me,” but it didn’t
seem like anything major needed to be tweaked. (This was confirmed
one album later.)
For all the weaknesses,
Extreme does turn in some high-caliber performances and
efforts. “Kid Ego,” the song that first woke people up to this
band, has the chops that easily could have made it a hit single,
and offers a glimpse into the vein that they’d follow on songs like
“Decadence Dance” and “Get The Funk Out” on
Extreme II: Pornograffiti. Likewise, “Wind Me Up,” a song
that admittedly has to grow on you, proves itself to be a catchy
track that holds up to repeated listenings.
Other tracks like “Little Girls” and “Smoke Signals” aren’t
quite as strong, but they eventually prove themselves to be as
deserving of your attention as tracks like “Kid Ego”.
The biggest problem that Extreme had at this time was that the
band was searching for its own unique voice – and had they found it
in their songwriting at this time, then
Extreme might have been unstoppable. Sadly, this was not the
case.
Extreme is the kind of album you occasionally pull out to
remind yourself just who these guys were before they hit the big
time – and crashed to earth not long after. Is it required
listening? With the recent release of an Extreme greatest hits
disc, maybe not – and admittedly, some parts of the album are a
little painful to get through. But it’s still worth listening to at
least once in order to understand who they were at the start of
their career, not where they would eventually go.