Review: Gas Light Anthem, The '59 Sound
By Albert Aspinall
Monday 19th October 2009
Great albums never fade out of fashion, in a manner identical to why even today we still read Shakespeare and Dickens, and every so often break out an old worn copy of Pulp fiction to watch again. It’s human nature to reminisce about the pinnacle of cultural creation, irrelevant of the decades that separate us from the original.
It is from these ideals that we use to define us, they say the things that we are currently unable to put into words, in a fashion far more eloquent than we could ever hope to achieve. And finally they have the ability to remind us of what we are all capable, and that each and everyone one of us has a story to tell and a voice to tell it. Introducing The Gaslight Anthem.
Their story was similar to many others, with a few vital exceptions, it starts like this:
“The Boss” was sitting at home when his son, Evan, brought him the second album of a little known but up-and-coming band from his hometown of New Jersey. They were called The Gaslight Anthem. It must have been more of a surprise to hear lyrics he had written 35 years before echoing from the 4th track, “High Lonesome” in the form of “and in the night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet, it’s a pretty good song maybe you know the rest” (a rip from 1985 song “I’m on fire”), just one of the numerous fragments included, obtained from sources varying from early Springsteen and 1994 Counting Crows to Charles Dickens, Christmas Carol.
Subsequent to a supporting role on tour with The Boss and E Street, The Gaslight Anthem were propelled into critical acclaim, which culminated in a set at Glastonbury this year, an event that was further ascended to Brian Fallons (vocals/guitar) dream-case-scenario when Springsteen joined them onstage for a rendition of The ’59 Sound, following extensive “Bruuuucing” from the crowds. (An act that in ’78 caused a 30 minute delay to the start of a gig while the nervous Springsteen was reassured that the Boo-ing that he thought he heard was infact “bruuucing”) As if the tens of thousands strong Glasto 09 crowd wasn’t enough to intimidate a shy Fallon, only minutes before they went on to play there biggest set ever Springsteen approached them and said ‘I think I’m going to play that ” ‘59 Sound” song with you” It took Fallon more than a minute to reply.
The Album ’59 sound, originates from the aptly named “Day the music Died” when in February 1959 a small plane carrying Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and J. P. "The Big Bopper" Richardson, crashed killing all the passengers. It kicks off with “Great Expectations” an exceptional start to this bands second album, drawn primarily from Fallons heart-broken roots, and Dickens Novels, with the lyrics “I hope we don’t hear Marleys chains we forged in life” Marley was Scrooge's partner, a ghost who was doomed to wander the Earth carrying behind him the heavy chains of his wickedness during life.
“Old white Lincoln” opens with “if I could write, I’d tell you how much I miss these nights where we dig around the bones and try to find peace and patches for the holes” where Fallon tells of the comfort found in dealing with your past. After all we are not products of the highlights of our lives, nor are we captives of our darkest downfalls, instead we are the amalgamation of both, of every single decision that has brought us to this moment right now. In the absence of either, we wouldn’t be who we are today
The song name itself is taken from a phrase coined by John Cohen and contains the lyrics "I lit a cigarette on a parking meter" from "Talkin' World War III Blues" by Bob Dylan
For those who the indie rock aspect doesn’t appeal and there is a tendency towards more mellow songs, check out the acoustic covers on Spotify, they feature Fallon and an acoustic guitar and are absent in The ’59 sound.
The album appeals so greatly, not because of the tortured lyrics or even the soulful vocals, and catchy beats, but instead because of the nostalgia it instills when listening to it, the reminiscing and reverie that accompany every track.
Monday 19th October 2009
Great albums never fade out of fashion, in a manner identical to why even today we still read Shakespeare and Dickens, and every so often break out an old worn copy of Pulp fiction to watch again. It’s human nature to reminisce about the pinnacle of cultural creation, irrelevant of the decades that separate us from the original.
It is from these ideals that we use to define us, they say the things that we are currently unable to put into words, in a fashion far more eloquent than we could ever hope to achieve. And finally they have the ability to remind us of what we are all capable, and that each and everyone one of us has a story to tell and a voice to tell it. Introducing The Gaslight Anthem.
Their story was similar to many others, with a few vital exceptions, it starts like this:
“The Boss” was sitting at home when his son, Evan, brought him the second album of a little known but up-and-coming band from his hometown of New Jersey. They were called The Gaslight Anthem. It must have been more of a surprise to hear lyrics he had written 35 years before echoing from the 4th track, “High Lonesome” in the form of “and in the night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet, it’s a pretty good song maybe you know the rest” (a rip from 1985 song “I’m on fire”), just one of the numerous fragments included, obtained from sources varying from early Springsteen and 1994 Counting Crows to Charles Dickens, Christmas Carol.
Subsequent to a supporting role on tour with The Boss and E Street, The Gaslight Anthem were propelled into critical acclaim, which culminated in a set at Glastonbury this year, an event that was further ascended to Brian Fallons (vocals/guitar) dream-case-scenario when Springsteen joined them onstage for a rendition of The ’59 Sound, following extensive “Bruuuucing” from the crowds. (An act that in ’78 caused a 30 minute delay to the start of a gig while the nervous Springsteen was reassured that the Boo-ing that he thought he heard was infact “bruuucing”) As if the tens of thousands strong Glasto 09 crowd wasn’t enough to intimidate a shy Fallon, only minutes before they went on to play there biggest set ever Springsteen approached them and said ‘I think I’m going to play that ” ‘59 Sound” song with you” It took Fallon more than a minute to reply.
The Album ’59 sound, originates from the aptly named “Day the music Died” when in February 1959 a small plane carrying Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and J. P. "The Big Bopper" Richardson, crashed killing all the passengers. It kicks off with “Great Expectations” an exceptional start to this bands second album, drawn primarily from Fallons heart-broken roots, and Dickens Novels, with the lyrics “I hope we don’t hear Marleys chains we forged in life” Marley was Scrooge's partner, a ghost who was doomed to wander the Earth carrying behind him the heavy chains of his wickedness during life.
“Old white Lincoln” opens with “if I could write, I’d tell you how much I miss these nights where we dig around the bones and try to find peace and patches for the holes” where Fallon tells of the comfort found in dealing with your past. After all we are not products of the highlights of our lives, nor are we captives of our darkest downfalls, instead we are the amalgamation of both, of every single decision that has brought us to this moment right now. In the absence of either, we wouldn’t be who we are today
The song name itself is taken from a phrase coined by John Cohen and contains the lyrics "I lit a cigarette on a parking meter" from "Talkin' World War III Blues" by Bob Dylan
For those who the indie rock aspect doesn’t appeal and there is a tendency towards more mellow songs, check out the acoustic covers on Spotify, they feature Fallon and an acoustic guitar and are absent in The ’59 sound.
The album appeals so greatly, not because of the tortured lyrics or even the soulful vocals, and catchy beats, but instead because of the nostalgia it instills when listening to it, the reminiscing and reverie that accompany every track.