Published on Aug 4, 2000
Billy Joel isn’t my favorite artist, but I certainly enjoy his
work. He’s fun, has a brilliant touch with songwriting, and knows
how to add just the right touch of irony to his lyrics. He is, in
my opinion, one of the most brilliant composers of the rock era.
That said, he is occasionally erratic in his quality. Some albums
are better than others. Some albums, more importantly, are more
consistent than others, which brings us to
The Nylon Curtain.
Written and released during the opening years of Ronald Reagan’s
presidency in the US,
The Nylon Curtain is the closest that Joel has come to a
political statement. It opens with the hollow chimes of
“Allentown,” a stark criticism of dying industry and promises
broken — but where another artist might have been angry and
vicious, Joel is merely resigned, the voice of a man already
defeated. When he sings “Down in Bethlehem they’re killing time,”
you can really feel the death of time, of people’s hopes crushed by
the failure of Big Business. “Allentown” is one of the greatest
songs Joel has ever recorded.
Move forward. Pass “Laura,” an interesting but mostly
unremarkable song about co-dependency, and run smack dab into
another masterpiece, “Pressure.” From the moment the dry, crisp
snare-and-cymbal intro hits (played by Joel regular Liberty
DiVitto, a severely underappreciated drummer) and the bass begins a
soft, insistent pounding like a heartbeat, you know that this is a
song that will not let up. Joel’s lyrics about tension and pressure
in the fast-paced society of early-eighties America creates its own
tension through an unresolved, fierce melody. “Pressure” is about
pressure, plain and simple, and it may be the most coherent musical
trigger for emotion ever written.
“Pressure” fades out, and Joel still doesn’t let up. A few
seconds’ silence, and then the helicopters signal the beginning of
“Goodnight Saigon,” Joel’s cold, clinical examination of the
Vietnam War and its effect on those who went, those who fought, and
those who survived. With a backing of acoustic guitar, it’s a
campfire song for the damned, harrowing in its gentleness. (One of
the greatest concert moments I have ever been privileged enough to
witness was Joel singing this live in Indianapolis in 1986, backed
by a choir of ‘Nam veterans. Words can’t do it justice.)
Then you have the rest of the CD. And therein lies the problem.
The Nylon Curtain is an interesting example of a CD that
doesn’t completely work because of the
order of the songs. During the vinyl and cassette area, the
break between sides (which I
think, trying to remember back to my high school vinyl copy,
was after “Goodnight Saigon”) would have helped. On CD,
The Nylon Curtain suffers from its own excellence.
There are a few good songs remaining — “Surprises” and
“Scandinavian Skies” most notably — and a couple of throwaway
tracks in “She’s Right On Time” and “Where’s The Orchestra?”. But
there is nothing to match the impact of the three singles.
Is it still a good CD? By all means. If nothing else, it
contains three of Joel’s greatest songs ever. Could it have been
better? Probably. But it remains a testament to a dark, bleak time
in America.