I’ve talked about Ted Leo on a number of occasions, citing him as a great example of an artist who blends politics, a punk aesthetic, and great tunes. Plus, he’s a vegetarian, which as I’ve said in the past, pretty much makes you an automatic 10 in my book. Because of all that, I’ve been meaning to talk about his new record for quite some time, but things kept coming up. So finally (a month or two late), here it is: a record full of ambition, the closest thing to a London Calling for 2007 in style and scope, if not necessarily in song quality.
Let me first say that although the reviews have mostly been very positive, I have to say that for my money, Living With the Living has got nothing on 2004’s fantastic Shake the Sheets. This record has nothing that even comes close to the frenetic energy and heart-on-the-sleeve passion of “Walking to Do” or the blistering simplicity of “Me and Mia.” On a number of tracks, the traditional Ted Leo tactic of taking a simple guitar riff and draping a song around it goes on more than little too long (all six long minutes of “La Costa Brava” for example). I admit to a liberal use of the “skip” function at times because of this.
In addition, while the wide range of musical styles is a major part of the record’s strength, some tracks (the loose reggae of “The Unwanted Things” and the Queen-esque operatics of “The Toro and the Toreador” for example) fall a little flat if I’m not in precisely the right mood. And finally, while I appreciate the sentiment and can fully understand its appeal to others, I simply cannot handle listening to the punk stream of consciousness that is the majority of “Bomb. Repeat. Bomb.”
That track also runs into a problem I would not expect from Leo: obviousness. Where most of his work is beautiful for how much it can say with how little, there is nothing subtle here. We bomb stuff because it makes killing antiseptic…it’s a good point, but perhaps could be made better by embedding it within something a little more complex.
Still, these complaints are minor and should not obscure an important, and quite enjoyable, record. If the lack of subtlety on “Bomb. Repeat. Bomb.” bothers me, it’s in part because he is so deft on so many other tracks. For example, “Annunciation Day / Born on Christmas Day,” for example, touches on the relationship between faith and violence, and the way the horror of the latter can pose a serious challenge the former. Elsewhere, in a refreshing bit of misdirection, “C.I.A.” includes virtually no mention of the agency from which it derives its title, instead focusing on the personal. Calling attention to the way people lead their daily lives with the basic premise of openness makes his critique of the way power often operates in secrecy behind the curtains of government far stronger than if it were a simple anti-statist screed.
What these songs show is that Leo is at his best when he is dealing with microcosms. This is nowhere more clear than on the album’s finest track “A Bottle of Buckie” where Leo does his best to channel Billy Bragg (with a very Pogues-esque interlude) into the middle of a song that is both brooding and energetic. The rock song about good times with an old friend is such a mainstay that it’s almost a cliche, but it is rarely done with such tenderness or honesty. No grand themes are dealt with here, and if a wide array of social and cultural questions provide the background, he is happy to let them stay there. That they are working class with no futures (after all, they’re out drinking Buckie) is important, but only insofar as it gives strength to the narrative. The memory of those you have loved and the reckless abandon with which you lived is a powerful form of nostalgia, especially for one who has left it all behind. But at the same time, there is the reality of a dead-end life for those who never did escape. The return, the attempt to recapture even briefly the feeling of youth, this is bittersweet. As much as we reminisce, the past is gone and was never as beautiful as it might seem – you can’t help but realize that perhaps the only thing to do is simply escape. And this reality is what makes the nostalgia so touching.
I likened this record to London Calling, and I do mean that. Not that I think this is anywhere close to as good, but in terms of the attempt to bring together wildly divergent sounds, themes, and desires, it’s hard to think of a record in recent years that compares. No one will love every track, but if you have any interest in intense, indie rock with a brain, a pulse, and a conscience, you would be well served to give Living With the Living a try.