You've heard of "the difficult second album?" San Francisco's
Swell
would say that's better applied to a fourth LP, as the making of their's took on Homeric difficulties. It began, self-produced, in a homemade studio in Los Angeles (scrapped); the second try came in Hollywood (mostly scrapped). After fleeing back to San Fran, two separate producers failed on third and fourth attempts, before
moseyed to New York, where they finally found acceptable results with
Kurt Ralske
(Mr.
Ultra Vivid Scene
), the man behind the desk for
Lotion
,
the Ropers
, and others. Then, after two years of the sort of home-hopping usually familiar only to fugitives, their label,
American
, declined to release it! If Bruno Magli footprints had been found around the murdered body of label president
Rick Rubin
, we'd know who'd been wearing those "ugly ass" shoes this time. But the non-violent
took their hard-won wares to
Beggars
instead. And now that Odysseus is finally home, was it worth it? The production, unfortunately, sounds like the same old gated, compressed, no-breath alterna-sound that even
the Smashing Pumpkins
are starting to abandon. Where's the warmth? But with more plays, a determined, laconic moodiness sets in, not quite the West Coast melancholy of the best of
Idaho
American Music Club
Mazzy Star
, and
Red House Painters
but, nevertheless, there's an inviting essence of brood in the basslines, and in
David Freel
's just-woke-up, weary, and wary voice. But
is louder, more annoyed, twisting the frame inside the band's black cloud. Songs such as
"(I Know) the Trip"
recall
Medicine
and the darker New Zealand bands (see
Melt
by
Straitjacket Fits
). With real life in the mix, the sympathetically titled
Too Many Days Without Thinking
could have been as ambitiously epic as its making; they come close. ~ Jack Rabid