underneath acoustic

I'm not sure who is more romantic about our "relationship," Hanson or us--I mean do you treat every Hanson fan you've encountered with tenderness and respect?

When I consider my standing within the current fan base my reaction wavers between that discomfort you feel when confronted with what you look like in a magnified mirror--the one that exaggerates all of your pores--and the instant, unspoken bond among the survivors of anything. The cement of which reminds you simultaneously of your good fortune and fragile humanity--the potential for both unfailing loyalty and resentment.

In an album dedicated and largely available exclusively to their lingering fan base, Hanson treats us as if we've earned the right to share in their self-righteous indignation, dreamy desire, soul-searching, relationship woes, the whimsical highs . . . it goes on and on.

But did we earn this right legitimately or at all? We've dissected and overanalyzed the band, barged in on private moments, demanded ever more of them . . . we've been downright possesive. And yet, they take us Underneath?

Evolution exists as reaction to an environment. I guess Hanson acknowledges the role their fans play in their evolution. This thought did not surface for me, except in the unadorned notes and lyrics as produced by the band in Acoustic.

This album acts as a foil to the hanson.net EP, casting it as sterile or manufactured to this album's organic. The delicate acoustic guitar, the harmonica--a legitimate throw-back to "Stories", the soothing piano, the hearty familiarity of Zac's drumming, the return of the Tulsan accent (after its brief departure "In the City") . . . it's the album that you fell asleep to all those years ago as a Hanson fan.

strong enough to break
If you haven't traveled this road with Hanson, you are unaware and uncaring that you are quite possibly the target of the indignation in this track. Those who feel they have earned the right to share in Hanson's sentiments, add among the targets not only the music industry but their own experiences with someone who has discounted the band's talent. But in classic Hanson style, the band is just as demanding of themselves and end up finding strength in others' doubt. Hanson, once again, applies for status as Jedi Master.

deeper
Have you ever sat behind people rubbing each others' backs or showing other forms of public affection? That's the reaction I have to this track . . . a too closeness to someone else's intimate feelings. And, and, I wouldn't exactly call the emotion, "love" when referring to a person whose name you don't know. It sounds more like another feeling. An image of Isaac ogling an unknown fan is unpleasant . . . so I choose to avoid my evil associations. I almost want to apologize to Isaac, but I'm confident that my distaste is probably an anomaly.

when you're gone
I can't exaggerate my praise for this song--except possibly that some of the mixed metaphors get a little absurd if you think too hard (In SAT style: timbers, rain and cinders=forest fire?). How is it possible that Hanson crawled through the darkest hours of my heart break--to the point of even reading my diary--and now, manages to cast that time as less lonely for their presence in it, even from the distance of almost a decade away? From the thorns and cross that unrequited love or distanced love imposes, it speaks to the heightened appreciation for the kind of love that bore that pain first . . . awe doesn't begin to address my gratitude for this song.

misery
Let me begin by expressing an appreciation for the rich tenor of Zac's voice. But why does this song cause me to stifle a giggle? The title implies Isaac, but it's sung by Zac. But on closer listen, this song is laced with an air of self-resolve in the face of a crumbling relationship--this is pure Zac . . . as opposed to "I Don't Know," "Love Song" and "More than Anything" that defines heartsick Isaac. Plus, in the story begun by "Lucy" I envision this song as Zac's bookend to that heartrending relationship. ::smile:: Also, there's something about this song that reminds me of the song, "Going Down the Road Feeling Bad" that Hanson sang with the surviving members of The Grateful Dead. Finally and obscurely, my theory involving Zac and the number 8 is revived as track #4 is so obviously its half . . . my theory is that Zac mysteriously features prominently in or is slyly associated with the number, two cubed.

underneath
My affinity for this song, and incidentally, the album title, began with a very personal post entitled, life underground, that was published March 2001 before the band revealed this song or album title. This journal entry came out of the reading of The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver and it addressed a range of emotion related to personal identity, many present in Hanson's song: stifling self awareness, alienation, reaching for the surface . . . This song envelopes that sensation that follows a round of hard sobbing, not pitiful but cathartic. Your eyes still raw, your cheeks sticky and damp, your throat beginning to relax . . . and yet, an unusual calm is rising from the depth of your stomach.

penny and me
Isn't this song Hanson allowing us to step through the "glassy surface" into nights of pure carefree grown-up Hanson? Cigars, fast cars, only good songs on the radio, moonlight, lemonade, a fireplace . . . aimless conversations . . . you know the script, because in addition to pretending to fly, you've imagined it a thousand times. The grammar maven in me only fleetingly noticed "me" instead of "I." (It's irresistible to think "Dollar and You" as a possible Weird Al parody--am I alone in this? (c;)

hey
Again, Hanson uncannily takes me down memory lane . . . this time to the brief stint when I called California home. The red, white and blue references certifies the band as the red-meat eating, soulful white-skinned, blue-blooded boys we've all fallen for. This seems like the more logical choice for commercial single-hood. But when it comes to Hanson, the rejection of the obvious choice is one of the ways they define "endearing."

love somebody to know
The opening chords demand, "Celebration!" The ambiguous nature of this title, only becoming clear when you hear the song, is such a fun discovery. It speaks in my defense to all people I know who endure and sometimes politely avoid my endless appreciation for the band. It has a tang of Rolling Stone's "You Can't Always Get What You Want" vibe in the punch of the lyrics and tempo, no?. Zac's contribution near the final section of the song harkens back to his cut-loose vocals near the end of "Everybody Knows the Claus." Unadulterated entertainment. Yeah.

final observations and thoughts
Obscure things I treasure:

• Exclamations, piano chords and Isaac's thoughts abruptly fractured by the sound editor at the beginning and end of song tracks
• Loyalty to their old-school dance teacher and friend, Ja Marc, despite his alleged legal troubles
• The hidden track that translates to ::wink wink nod nod:: to every person who bought this record to add to a collection rather than as their first Hanson album

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Your thoughts are always welcome!! dknstormy@aol.com
posted September 2003

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