What makes a good musician? Back in high school, when my obsession with all things Kurt Cobain led me to uncover the kings of cowpunk, the Meat Puppets, my adolescent mind couldn’t comprehend the claims from my dad that the guitar work on this album was top-tier. What initially jumped out at me were the vocals that seemed incapable of hitting a note on key, the random bursts of whistling and wailing and the pseudo-bar rock guitar licks. The songs sounded cool, but kind of like a big joke. Of course this toilet bowl attitude belies what is ultimately one of the more brilliantly crafted rock albums of the past few decades, but I can’t blame first-time listeners for looking at this album as if it were a pair of fornicating dogs by the side of the road.
“Split Myself in Two” stands as a pretty good summary of all the things “Meat Puppets II” accomplishes, even if the rest of the album doesn’t necessarily reflect its relentless attitude. Easily the most straight-up punk track on “II,” “Split Myself in Two” rides along a tornado of blues progression. In it, the Kirkwood brothers ramble off cautionary tales of fortune tellers all in good fun, but certainly not untouched territory until the bridge sets the track on fire. A guitar solo slowly begins to emerge from the mud in gloriously amorphous fashion, revealing the coursing psychedelic veins of this strange swamp creature. In about 30 seconds, Curt and Cris Kirkwood reshape country, punk and the experimental in their own image, revealing a surprisingly in-depth understanding of the genres they toy with, even as their musical technique seems incapable of advancing beyond a high school level.
Of course, the track immediately following throws all preconceived notions of what makes a talented musician out the door. The short interlude of “Magic Toy Missing” gives Curt the opportunity to demonstrate how proficient his chops on the guitar truly are, making the confident lead into “Lost” all the more well-earned.
After the opening marathon of styles, “II” creeps into a suite of eerie psychedelia kicked off by the magnificent “Plateau.” Guitar strings seem to snap off of their necks the further the song climbs, until the coda introduces an electric guitar line that sears with all the menace of Neil Young on a hallucinatory bend.
Elsewhere, “We’re Here” presents a more enchanting take on the Puppets’ guitar tones. The solo conjures images of ancient cave paintings reflecting light off their earthen-yet-humid surfaces.
The remainder of “II” is fairly lighthearted in comparison, engaging in brief guitar ditties like “I’m A Mindless Idiot” and howling electro-porch jams a lá “Lake of Fire.” Each song bears a chemistry that hasn’t really been duplicated by any other band (or even the Meat Puppets after this album, to a certain extent). It’s the band’s fluidity that makes “II” such a bad-ass album from a musician’s perspective. The war between sloppiness and proficiency has produced many great artists throughout recent decades, but none so seemingly good at being shitty as the Meat Puppets. Every bass line follows that cheesy da-dunk pattern with such glee as the excessively simplistic drums leave room for all the noodling guitars to explore the neck in inspiring, yet constantly hilarious ways.
“II” is a practiced podunk record, a testament to the idea that music, ultimately, should please the listener as much as it does the composer, but that needn’t entail that musicians shrug off putting serious effort into their art.
Contact CU Independent Staff Writer Sam Goldner at Samuel.goldner@colorado.edu.
