Shoes, the guitar-pop combo from Zion, Ill. — who in the 1970s
prefigured the home-recording DIY boom of the ’90s and beyond — will
release Ignition, their first album of new material since 1994 on Aug. 14.
Ignition contains 15 tracks from
Shoes’ three founding members and songwriters: bassist-vocalist John
Murphy, guitarist-vocalist Jeff Murphy, and guitarist-vocalist Gary
Klebe, plus longtime stage drummer John Richardson.
Self-produced and
released on the band’s own Black Vinyl Records, Ignition not
only carries on Shoes’ cult-heroic tradition of edibly tuneful,
harmony-honeycombed guitar pop; it ventures intriguingly beyond those
comfortable (though undeniably rewarding) borders as well.
Altogether
the work of seasoned, mature musicians whose singular trajectory as
100 percent self-taught, self-created recording artists has been
outside-the-box since it began, Ignition showcases Shoes at their technical and artistic peak.
The album’s release coincides with that of a new book, definitive band chronicle Boys Don’t Lie: A History of Shoes by Mary E. Donnelly (New York college professor and managing editor of PurePopPress.com)
with Moira McCormick.
It recounts the critically-lionized group’s
evolution from rudimentary mid-’70s experiments in cutting their own
records at home, through a three-album 1980s tenure at major label
Elektra Records, on to a ’90s incarnation as self-sufficient indie
artists operating their own full-service label and studio businesses,
before coming full-circle back to home recording in the new,
post-digital-revolution millennium.
It was Gary Klebe’s state-of-the-art home studio, in fact, that helped spark Ignition into
existence in 2010. Unbeknownst to his cohorts, the singer-guitarist had
transformed his unfinished concrete basement into a sophisticated
digital-analog hybrid recording facility; he unveiled it to his
bandmates in October, shortly after singer-guitarist Jeff Murphy
presented them with a new song he’d written, seeking his fellow Shoes’
feedback.
But his brother John, along with Klebe, didn’t merely critique
Jeff’s stark, stripped-down rumination, “Out of Round”; employing
Gary’s new studio gear, they transformed it from a straightforward
ballad to a strikingly off-kilter rock track. Written for a friend who’d
died suddenly of an infectious brain disease — but from the perspective
of his grief-stricken wife — “Out of Round” is driven by a measured,
minor-key piano figure evoking a barely-getting-by atmosphere of loss,
which alternates with guardedly hopeful bursts of the
double-time-drummed chorus. “Out of Round” is like nothing else in
Shoes’ canon.
And the song’s three-way collaboration process (which hadn’t
occurred in quite some years) juiced the Murphy brothers and Klebe into
recording more new material, now intended for a group album — Shoes’
first such project since ’94’s self-released Propeller.
Gary
brought in a lilting ode to hard-won wisdom called “Nobody to Blame,”
along with the sharp-tongued romantic orison “Heaven Help Me” (“What’s
not to hate about love?” he inquires pithily.) John, who’d been shaping
up a song fragment of his own, found himself stranded at Jeff’s during a
Christmas snowstorm; naturally, both Murphys began working on it
together, using Jeff’s home studio to demo John’s tune, a cautionary yet
supportive offering to an erstwhile love interest titled “In on You”
(“You’ll finally see when you put your trust in me/But you made it
harder than it had to be”).
When John Richardson flew in the following week, on January 1
(following his New Year’s Eve gig keeping time for the Gin Blossoms), Ignition
shifted into high gear. Richardson laid down drum tracks for Shoes’
so-far modest cache of new material, and returned at regular intervals
to Zion from his home base of northern Wisconsin as the collection grew.
Shoes’ three singer-songwriters worked regularly through 2011 on their
new endeavor, meeting several nights a week in Klebe’s basement studio —
periodically noting the home-cooked similarities between this recording
project and the one that became Black Vinyl Shoes, the groundbreaking 1977 LP they recorded in Jeff Murphy’s living room. That critically-laurelled
platter garnered Shoes the major-label attention that culminated in
their getting signed, resulting in the band’s trio of lustrous Elektra
Records albums, Present Tense (1979), Tongue Twister (1981), and Boomerang (1982).
Ignition is Shoes’ fourth self-released album of all-new music since parting ways with Elektra, a series that began with 1984’s Silhouette, continued in 1990 with Stolen Wishes, and halted (temporarily) four years later with its 1994 follow-up, Propeller.
The ensuing 18 years’ output has included a live CD, reissues, rarities
compilations, a two-CD set of early demos (2007’s limited-edition Double Exposure), film-soundtrack and tribute-album contributions, Jeff Murphy’s ’07 solo release, Cantilever — and now, Ignition.
Its 15 tracks are divided, per Shoes’ longstanding democratic
custom, among the band’s three writers, including two group
compositions. One, “Hot Mess,” arrives with a swaggering salvo of Keith
Richards-style, open-G-tuned guitar, playing its Stones role to the hilt
lyrically as well: “She’s been payin’ her dues/With her skanky
tattoos/And her sensible shoes/She’s a hot mess” Like the completely
different “Out of Round,” “Hot Mess” displays still another of Shoes’
multiple facets.
But as noted above, the band has hardly abandoned the lovelorn
lyrical cant wrapped in luminous melodicism that has been its trademark
for decades. Card-carrying Shoes devotees will find a plethora of purest
pop in Ignition, from Gary Klebe’s instantly infectious album
opener “Head vs. Heart” to John Murphy’s suave and mellifluous “Wrong
Idea” to the buoyant, group-penned “Say It Like You Mean It” to Jeff
Murphy’s lenticular “Where Will It End?” (Viewed from one angle it’s a
fed-up-with-love song; from another, the singer is fed up with Tea Party
conservatism: “I still believe in hope and change/But simple minds get
in the way.”)
This new album from
Shoes ends with Klebe’s “Only We Remain,” whose understatedly urgent
folk-rock jangle is reminiscent of early, Chronic Town-era
R.E.M. Here, too, is a song that’s nominally about the vicissitudes of
romance, but its final verse could double as Shoes’ mission statement,
after nearly four decades of carrying the power-pop torch: “Do what we
wanna do/We’ll do it anyway/Do what we wanna do/Livin’ for today/Only we
remain.”
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