On the Occasion of Baltimore, 8/9/03
__This Time Around live is astonishing.
What began as just another song has metamorphasized to an anthem when played live. I think
that for everyone in the crowd singing along was seriously a semi-emotional affirmation of
the fact that Hanson aren't going to be abandoned, that they and their music are something
special that we're proud to be involved with, even if only from afar. As other people
reported, Hanson made their standard "sing along with us!" request midway
through the song, but they needn't have bothered: 700 blissfully happy people were already
screaming every lyric. I couldn't hear Hanson through most of the song, but I bet people
all the way to actual
Also, I was happy to note that this song
was greeted with more enthusiasm than even Mmmbop. Whenever I've seen serious
one-hit-wonders live, their successful song was all that anyone cared about. The fact that
fans have adopted a newer, less successful tune over an old-time nostalgia hit seems a
sure sign that Hanson are still connecting with people through their music.
The demo version of the song is Hanson's patented breezy pop with a dark underbelly: all
shot through with sunlight and harmony and shiny with supporting instrumentation, but only
hinting at what the words really say. Crazy and Beautiful as performed live by Taylor
Hanson with only a genuine piano for accompaniment is a different creature--a visceral, bare-knuckle fighter of a song that is
enraged and furiously betrayed. In contrast to the version of its lyrics that we've
already heard--the ones that seem to be wowed by a beautiful girl just like any other love
song--Taylor's original Crazy and Beautiful carries with it a palpably sour heart of
double-edged betrayal: it finds its cause both in a lying love and a heart nonetheless
defenseless against her "crazy beauty.
While she may not be a Vogue model, Jessica is further proof that the Hanson gene pool is
deep beyond all belief. Her features are Taylor-style, big and strong but perfect for her
face, and her hair is a cascade of smooth spun gold. Shes an Elizabeth Smart
looking, corn-fed Midwestern angel who must have to beat boys off with a very large stick.
Not that Im jealous or anything.
McDonalds. Roy Rogers. Ruby Tuesday. Nathan's (with cheese). All within 48 hours, and
making me want to vomit at their mere thought.
We all know what a standard Ike song is: its John Mayer, with a little less
personality. It features nonsense syllables like na na na; It repeats over and
over again things that werent all that interesting the first time around, like
say goodbye. It uses clichés that should forever be stricken from the English
language, or at least punishable by death, like poetry in motion. But beneath
the sensitive, singer-songwriter exterior beats the heart of a stadium rock god. Even sweet old River felt the bite of a new
Ike, finding itself suddenly home to anguished growls aplenty. His unsuspected true
potential wasnt unleashed, however, until midway through the show when a Little
Richard cover, Rip It Up,
introduced us to a new, some-monster-in-his-man Ike. Jerry Lee Lewis would have been
proud how Hanson rocked the joint, turning the song into a dirty bar brawl set to music,
all with Ike masterfully at the helm.
We didnt go to the show early, instead turning up our noses at the block-long line
and having a long dinner and meander through the magazine section of Barnes and Noble.
When we did show up, though, Hanson were standing around outside their bus chatting up
fans and signing autographs in a staggeringly casual way, considering that they were once
a group that evoked hysteria in millions. They looked nice and were friendly and all, but
hardly deserved my immediate, physical reaction to their presence: Lets just say
that while getting close and talking to them wasnt really on the agenda, watching
them from afar was a shockingly palpitating moment that left me with an idea how it would
feel like to finish the Boston Marathon. I was like a cartoon, swept off my feet by the
intensity of my heart frantically beating a foot above my chest. It was curious, really,
this first response to a new sighting of Hanson, and it went away quickly. But while it
lasted, it was miraculous and wonderful and everything a girl could ask out of an
inappropriate and unreasonable obsession.
Secretly, I suspect this CD was messed up during its production: The last five songs
should really have been the first. As it was burned, the early tracks are lovely with
harmony and lyrics a thousand times more personal than what were used to getting
from Hanson (and blasphemous, to boot!), but theyre obviously for us: strong and
sweet and darling, but basic and light on the hooks and heavy on the guitar. Its
only with Underneath that the game is really kicked into gear: the songs suddenly become
densely woven and immediately loveable, catchy and accessible at first listen even in the
face of the ever-present
This is estimation is meant to be taken in the most impressed way possible, mind youIm not Thomas Conner from Tulsa World, he who is happy to dismiss this disc as summery, carefree, easy and containing little more than seeds of substance. It could be that the lack of lyrics on the liner notes are hurting Hanson in this regard, because I find it hard to interpret the way that you keep screaming / I can hardly hear to think / And I feel the bridges burning underneath my feet and Dont you care no more that youre losing yourself / Dont you want some truth? / Cause I gave you mine* as light and casual in subject matter. (Lyrics translated by Meghan, the stellar copilot and all around fabulously fun girl.)
Hanson are clever little boys and I love them. Still. Always.
Also: red pumps and Cadillac blues.