underneath
May 2004

believe: didymus
An interpretation of this "final" track casts a shadow backward for me as a possible perspective on the rest of the album.

"Believe" is pure Didymus--otherwise known as Thomas--in those horrible days following the death of his closest friend. After having something so precious snatched away so cruelly, he's left bruised and broken.

And then, others begin to tell him that they have seen his friend, and theirs alive again. Didymus balks. And yet, he wants to believe . . . so much to believe. Miraculously, in that hope, he joins his friends. Again, in the very room, they claim to have witnessed the impossible. It's in those moments, the time before the resurrection of his most crushed dreams, that "believe" lives and breathes its grieving, yet hopeful breath.

unnerving: pure Hanson love
The album version of "Strong Enough to Break" feels like tasting the gourmet meal that someone made out of the fish you watched them catch in your backyard creek. The "na ne ne ne-na, na ne ne ne-na" addition is perfect. From the moment I heard the original version's guitar strains on a KLOS radio interview ages ago, I was hooked. To top it off, the endearing moment of the DVD was hearing Zac refer to this tune as one of his favorite songs as well.

"Dancing in the Wind" (my apologies for this spoiler) always makes me smirk as the residue of spent time among middle school boys has forever tainted any reference to "wind." Sorry, Amanda!

What makes "Penny and Me" the "MMMBop" of this album? The litmus test of true fanhood--the ability to articulate every lyric by the time concert time rolls around. The charm and wit of this song indeed makes it worthy of Hanson's first single off this album. "Penny" as either Hanson fan or the band's love of music-making is pure wrap-around-your-brain deep. That's the Hanson we know and love!

Then there's "Underneath" . . . where to begin? Witnessing the genesis of this song unfold on DVD, even though we've heard it retold again and again, there is something, yes, Taylor, visceral about its beginning, as captured on film. Although, the cellos on the album version are rich, the nakedness of the acoustic version is somewhat masked by them.

"Misery" is probably my favorite album translation because the texture is deeper (than the acoustic version), more contemplative and simultaneously more clubbish, if that's possible. This was initially my favorite song on the acoustic album.

One of the only other times I heard "Lost Without Each Other" was at arguably my favorite Hanson concert back in August in Pontiac, MI. As an encore, it felt like a faucet had been turned on full blast after a memorable storm. It sealed my transformation from reluctant fanaticism to reborn devotion.

When don't I feel Hanson is giving word and sound to my deepest thoughts? "When You're Gone" will feel that way to more than one person for more than a thousand reasons.

Zac, back on trusty track #8 . . ." Lucy . . . so small, yet still so proud." "Broken Angel" also made me think of the beautiful out-of-print book of angels Laura unexplainably sent my way awhile ago. So . . . I had to ask Laura, who saw the Hanson movie sitting a few rows apart from the band (hanson redundancy finally achieved!), if the song I thought was about a "Tight Rope" at the House of Blues concert I had attended (but did not see on the big screen) was actually "Broken Angel." She assured me that Zac, in fact, sang about a tight rope at that concert.

By the grace of God, "Deeper" did not make my least favorite list. Although it was under consideration. Yet the album version makes its case so earnestly and sweetly . . . I'm visibly softening . . . there's this charming "angel sparks" sound, if you listen carefully that you just can't stay irritated with.

I'm not sure what to say about "Get Up and Go" except that it seems to run through my mind when I'm in crowded malls. It's probably my least favorite song on the album--except for the tambourine intro and the clapping--so fun. Until I scoured the lyrics, I thought the song included the word, "d*mn." (c;

Years ago, a random post on the early hansonline forum (or was it h.net already), mentions that brass would be fun to mix in again sometime. "Crazy Beautiful" delivers, after all these years. Sometimes I feel my few and far between posts are buried in words more compelling, less uninformed . . . The hidden track "revisit" causes me to make a warped association with Isaac's hidden track on the sampler--enigmatic with an "inside the musician's studio" edge.

The intro to "Hey" reminds me of a Shannon Curfman (remember her?) intro. Of course, I still can't shake my "Cecilia" association (do you know this simon and garfunkel song?), but it's fading. The production on this song is pure entertainment worthy of Sunset Drive. These are just guesses: the funky rubber-tipped flipper sound, the reintroduction of the walkie-talkie/baby monitor, the improvisation (a la "everybody knows the claus") . . . the warped bass rolls . . . general mayhem and melody.

I'm going to admit it, there's something about "Lulla Belle" that just plain mystifies me. It definitely sounds like a lullabye to me . . . composed for a certain nephew? hmmm

shame and redemption
After 7 years with Hanson (the sabbatical year), with apologies to Hanson, many of my darkest and most selfish wishes for Hanson have been fulfilled. I had hoped:

  • To prove literally, that I would be among the last to fall away.
  • That Hanson's originality and integrity of character would expose the cruel machinations of the record industry.
  • For an acknowledgement in Hanson's liner notes next to the traditional nod to the sacred.
  • The cover of one of their albums would not be a stylized image of the band.
  • I would reach a point where I wouldn't be irritated when others received hanson-produced material before they reached my mailbox.
  • A personal dvd would include more intimate songwriting and recording footage--making questions about inspiration appear ridiculously irrelevant.
  • Even Hanson fans would one day look back, and scoff, "It's just hair" when remembering all of the hype surrounding the band's first uninvited trademark (forgetting the pansy for a moment).

Guilt twinged with satisfaction is the result as each one of these hopes reached fruition this year. Don't get me wrong. I was not sadistically enjoying all of Hanson's talk of pain and allusions to suicide--No, no. But a darker corner of my brain reminds me that the most heart-felt Hanson moments recently involve "Strong Enough to Break," Zac's spilled tear, "Underneath," Taylor's reassuring moment with Isaac, "When You're Gone," and Isaac's cell phone retort.

It's like having a heart-to-heart with your estranged best friend again, without all of the hurt and doubts about compromising yourself again. More like pure unearned connection.

At the same time, I was oddly aware as I took in the new album, of Hanson's 2 audiences: the faithful and the potentially reborn or even, possibly authentically new listener. I've completely lost perspective to even comment on anything but my own journey from the middle of nowhere.

daggers in my heart
I recently named my least favorite Hanson songs, and the pervasive emotion as I witness the band describe the struggle they've experienced, invite us into their songwriting sessions and generally act downright respectful of the fans--as predicted, each moment throws those treacherous words back in my face.

The dvd version 2.1 that unexpectedly arrived in my mailbox today, included a piece on the overwhelmingly zestful "rock n roller razorblade" that caused me to wince, and apologize for my wanton disregard of this song. The craft and vulnerable process that is songwriting should preclude shallow critiques. I'm a believer again, Hanson!

I will stand by the assessment that the tenor of the whole sampler felt so tremendously heart-sick, but in the distancing and bitter "swan song for an era" way, unlike the raw yet endearing "songs for tomorrow" in the vein of "underneath" et al. So, I love Hanson? Was there ever really any doubt?

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