Come one, come all to the spookiest Split Record Review you’ve ever read! Today, Henry and James are reviewing “The Commercial Album” by The Residents. You may know them from their mysterious eyeball-head costumes that put Daft Punk to shame since they’ve also managed to stay anonymous for fifty years now, an impressive feat in an increasingly invasive society. Their most prolific years were in the 1970s and ‘80s, though they’ve released about one album for every year of their existence, the pinnacle of which was “The Commercial Album” in 1980. It’s a bizarre record containing 40 one-minute songs. Based on this format and the music itself, what do these writers think of the album?
Henry’s Review:
The Residents have been my personal go-to artist for the Halloween season for a few years now. Now, I completely understand why many people are turned off by their strange song structures, obscure lyrics and experimentation; but that’s what draws me into their music.
In terms of accessibility, “The Commercial Album” might be the Residents’ softest album on the ears. Forty songs that barely reach the one-minute mark, each containing its own strange and wonderful vibe that carries the listener through a feverish and psychedelic ride.
Forming in Louisiana in the late 1960s, the Residents quickly made a name for themselves as a faceless, nameless group that combined ‘50s rock ‘n’ roll and vaudeville with experimental psychedelia. Voice alteration and instrumental obfuscation are mainstays of the group’s style. The group’s lyricism is nonsensical and dark, often buried within layers of irony and satire.
Despite the gimmick of having 40 songs on one album, “The Commercial Album” is a quintessential Residents album, encapsulating their demented aesthetic. Death is a major lyrical theme throughout the album, like on the opener “Easter Woman.” Many of the songs are marred by absurdly existential lyrics.
While it would be nearly impossible to speak on all 40 tracks here, some stand out as particularly interesting. “Die in Terror” is a particularly unnerving cut. The vocals on this track are discordantly harmonized, and the main melody emphasizes the tritone, commonly known as the devil’s interval.
“The Simple Song” sounds straight out of Twin Peaks, all but ten years before the show’s premiere. “We are simple. You are simple. Life is simple, too” are the only words throughout the entire song. While many of the tracks are certainly limited by their brevity, that restriction keeps the band on their toes, allowing for a heightened creative output, similar to Robert Pollard of Guided by Voices.
“Loneliness” sounds like some kind of funeral dirge, and features unaltered vocals, which becomes a rarity on the record beyond a certain point. After the halfway mark, the band continues to churn out a never-ending list of uncomfortable and woozy tunes, only seeming to get weirder with every subsequent ditty. “The Coming of the Crow” is an instrumental, with the music being almost entirely drowned out by buzzing sounds of machinery.
The album ends with “When We Were Young,” a normal song by the band’s standards. Though the ethereal synthesizers do sound wary, the rest of the song is quaint, and nostalgic sounding, reminiscent of “Everywhere at the End of Time.”
This album is not what most people would listen to daily, but whenever you’re in the mood to be spooked out, or need background music, “The Commercial Album” — and really the Residents in general — are a go-to for me. Maybe my music taste has been fried after years of exploration, but “The Commercial Album” might be one of my favorite albums of all time. It has an unmistakable vibe that stuck with me for a long time after my first listen.
Almost every experimental band under the sun owes some part of themselves to the Residents. Traces of their sonic explorations can be found everywhere from Primus to Death Grips. “The Commercial Album” is also a perfect album for the Halloween season, excellent background music to soundtrack your spooky weekend escapades.
Rating: 4.5/5
James’ Review:
Calling this album a collection of songs is an exaggeration; they’re a bunch of neat tunes. While the format of “The Commercial Album” is cool in concept, considering The Residents are also an art group, they should’ve gone back to the drawing board on this one. Don’t get me wrong — the music they create on this record does conjure an interesting vibe and there are plenty of excellent moments, but it’s mainly a case of what could’ve been if the tracks were fleshed out. If they weren’t so stubborn on the one-minute time limit for each track, this album could’ve turned out like Guided by Voices’ “Alien Lanes,” which has shorter yet more successful songs.
I’ll argue that “The Commercial Album” has a decent three-track run in the beginning, though I’m reluctant to call it that because the songs are so short. In fact, they mention on vinyl releases that each song should be played three times in succession to equate to a pop song, but I’m not doing that, so let’s stick to my original claim. Track four, “End of Home,” is ominous with booming drums and a drawn-out vocal cadence. “Amber” introduces female vocals and is more upbeat, while “Japanese Watercolor” is reminiscent of an instrumental interlude off a record by David Sylvian’s group, Japan.
Likely referencing a lyric on the first track, “Easter Woman,” “My Second Wife” comments on the blanket term for mental illness back in the day, “hysteria,” which “the doctor” said would be temporary. From the snare drums to the simple yet shaky vocals on “Suburban Bathers,” the group draws inspiration from Simeon Coxe of Silver Apples. “The Nameless Souls” is notable for its concerning Spotify visual, where a hand brandishes and handles a large knife. “Loss of Innocence” is a good bang for your buck, offering an esoteric poem beginning with “Amusement parks are caked with sounds / A solid hunk of meat,” backed by a scary synth instrumental.
“The Simple Song” features unnerving finger snaps and pitched-up vocals. The “it” in “Give It to Someone Else” is never specified, fostering a sense of ambiguity. Although “Phantom” lacks vocals, it’s the most Halloween-esque track on “The Commercial Album,” so give that one a listen if you’re mourning this year’s iteration of the holiday. The repetition of lyrics by another despondent vocalist on “Birds In the Trees” is a nice touch, and I’ll point out one more Spotify visual on “Handful of Desire,” depicting scantily clad and straight-up naked, albeit censored, people.
The sentiment shared on “Love Is…” is one of loneliness, though I could see someone rapping on an extended cut of “La La” to give that instrumental some companionship. “Nice Old Man” uses more female vocals, cultivating an unsettling lullaby. “And Between Dreams” is a solid ambient cut but the final three tracks are the most surprising yet. “Margaret Freeman” builds up the intensity for “The Coming of the Crow” to go absolutely hard, to the point that I’m shocked that Danny Brown didn’t sample the track on “XXX,” because it would’ve fit perfectly on there. Finally, “When We Were Young” ends it off with a simple melody and a plucky guitar.
You may have noticed I didn’t have much to say about these tracks on an individual basis, and that’s mainly because it’s hard to extract meaning and intent out of one-minute songs that aren’t wildly different from each other. Judging by The Residents’ output, it makes sense they would publish this thought experiment. However, it should’ve stayed in the vault due to the amount of wasted potential since they never expanded upon these decent tunes. Nevertheless, if you’re a Halloween fanatic and want to curate a soundtrack for the holiday, consider tacking “The Commercial Album” on.
Rating: 2.75/5