2005, Merge
Grade: B+
Let’s recap: Lou Barlow played bass in Dinosaur Jr, an SST mainstay and hero of ‘80s college rock; he formed Sebadoh soon after, riding Sub-Pop’s grunge momentum to becoming the biggest name in indie-rock; and eventually scored ubiquity with a hit, Folk Implosion’s “Natural One,” transcending the underground, right onto mainstream MTV. With so many accomplishments, do they make Lou Barlow one of the most important people in rock? The nominating factors are undeniable, having bridged three decades, respectively, though it's unclear if he still has an audience. But even legends that succeeded in only one of those categories (Paul Westerberg), today, have a mythical status unknown to Barlow. Or Sonic Youth, with a similar decade-spanning arc, hold a place in the annals of rock history Barlow may never see. I guess that means he just has to work all the harder.
Being on the label that broke Kurt Cobain for the better part of its days, Sub-Pop hardly shaped Sebadoh’s sound. Always sharing writing credits with its bass player—generally unfortunate—Barlow managed to weave together an awkward blend of bouncing snotty anthems and heartfelt balladry rarely heard in the early-90s underground—at times evoking Bread and the Minutemen back-to-back. The title of Barlow’s newest record isn’t in reference to the cutesy music movement—it’s “home” spelled backwards. Similarly he’s eschewed the irony of those bratty anthems and focused his efforts on a marriage of Harmacy’s “On Fire” and Folk Implosion—serious, melodic, and as well produced as lo-fi can be. Eight and a half years on from Sebadoh’s last substantive offering (ignoring The Sebadoh), others have faired well on the ground Barlow paved. Sensitive, nice guy music came into vogue, seeing Elliott Smith gain momentum and Pete Yorn sell records. Nearly a decade late, the prodigal son returns to perhaps claim something of what he deserves—safe, in comfortable surroundings.
EMOH is Barlow’s warmest work. (It may be winter, but when the sun comes, take this outdoors with you—at least to the porch.) Stacked against any version of “Brand New Love”, or all of Bakesale, it’s the maturity of “Legendary” and “Home”—the restraint of Lou’s smooth, plaintive voice—that reels it in, and matches his past. (The absence of erstwhile bass players Jason Lowenstein or Eric Gaffney interrupting the mood is an undeniable benefit). Still struggling to figure out the opposite sex, or more so, his uncontrollable feelings for them, a decade of marriage, and a baby on the way, haven’t made it any easier. Or maybe he has moved on, understands his life, but doesn’t know what else to write about; EMOH’s strengths, in the end, don’t veer far from Sebadoh. A retreat to form, nearing middle age (forty next year), Lou Barlow not only deserves credit for what he’s done so far, but also an ear for what he’s up to now.
Zachary Bloom
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