Published on Feb 8, 1998
When you have a collection as vast as the Pierce Memorial
Archives (if any more musicians die, we’re going to set off the
fire alarm due to the memorial candles), sometimes I don’t always
get the opportunity to give an album a second chance. I’ll listen
to it a few times, then file it away, digging it out only when I
have a desire to listen to it or to review it.
Fortunately for me, readers like Trent Nakagawa help to refresh
my memory. In a recent e-mail volley we had, Trent raised the
question why we hadn’t reviewed anything by Alice In Chains in our
13 months on-line – and asked me to take another look at
Facelift, their 1990 debut album.
It took some digging, but there it was, next to the Poi Dog
Pondering and Dire Straits (don’t ask… I gotta stop letting Wild
Man Fischer categorize my tapes). And, while
Facelift has some very solid moments, it mostly captures a
young band still feeling out where they wanted to go in the
business.
One of the harder bands to come out of the Seattle scene, Layne
Staley and crew proved themselves to be worth our attention when
they released a three-song EP
We Die Young, an album which had me slamming my head into
the walls when I was in college radio. “We Die Young” is an
incredible track, featuring the crunching guitar work of Jerry
Cantrell, Sean Kinney’s trap work and a solid bass line provided by
Michael Starr.
These days, however,
Facelift is remembered for “Man In The Box,” a song which
combines the best elements of funk, rock and metal and whips ’em
into a whole new flavor of its own. Kinney’s drumming often throws
in flashes of thrash with subtle double-bass work, while Cantrell
proves himself to be one of the most promising guitarists of this
decade. (I think the term “guitar god” went out in the ’70s with
disco, but if someone were looking to resurrect the term, he’d be
an ideal candidate.)
One of the more telling songs, at least in retrospect, is the
album’s closer “Real Thing,” the story of a junkie who seems to
want to break free from his addiction. If we had only known that
this could have been Staley’s cry for help, the band’s present-day
status might have been different. It’s a little sad and painful to
listen to today, seeing that the band has splintered apart due to
Staley’s recurrent drug use – but at the time, this cut could have
been a very poignant picture of a life of addiction.
There are other solid performances on
Facelift, notably “Sea Of Sorrow,” “I Know Somethin (Bout
You),” “Confusion” and “Bleed The Freak”, where the band’s talents
clearly come across. Maybe the reason we don’t know some of these
as well as other Alice In Chains songs is because they really
didn’t fit neatly into any genre. They were too hard for
alternative, and not heavy enough for metal – and fortunately for
us, they seemed unwilling to compromise in either direction.
But the biggest problem with
Facelift is an occasional lack of cohesion and direction.
When the band kept their songs shorter, they were more in focus.
But on cuts like “Love, Hate, Love” and “Put You Down,” it
sometimes feels like they’re drawing the song out for no apparent
reason. The end result is I find myself losing focus with the album
on several occasions.
Don’t get me wrong, I found more to enjoy about
Facelift on this listen than I did when I bought the tape
back in 1990. It’s just that Staley and crew were still trying to
find their musical niche. (They were still searching when they
released the EP
Sap, and seemed to find their groove with their next
full-length album,
Dirt.)
Facelift is still an album that’s worthy of your attention,
though it might be a little difficult to get through in one
sitting. And if you can separate Staley’s problems from the band’s
early days, you may find some surprises lurking on this one.