Braid
Frame & Canvas

That's just how I am. The truer something is, with everything that follows, the more I like it. And the more it is contradictory, misleading, and incoherent, the truer it is. Perfection doesn't exist, and I've already come to terms with that; I feel sorry for those who chase it. Perfection is for fake and illusory things, for dead people who play the part of the living. Maybe it's just how I am, but the more a person or a thing is like me, the more I like it. Narcissism? No, it's simple self-defense.

And that's precisely why I like Braid. Beamingly adolescent music that only the wallflower who spends the party in the dark corner instead of sipping a Sex on the Beach can manage to listen to. Edgy, pulsating, and even childish. A critic might dismiss it as "music for kids," but for me - as I said - it makes me feel good. It's the best emo-core of the '90s, which can't give a tone to people who want one. It's simultaneously silly and moving music, but it couldn't be otherwise.

"Frame & Canvas" ('98, Polyvinyl) is the third album by these four reckless individuals who stubbornly refuse to create original music, much to the anger of trendy music magazines. Everything revolves around the usual spleen of the bored and moody teenager, with lyrics that seem like appendices to those of "Celebrated Summer". Listening to it is a bit like seeing its EEG, and to draw it, they draw from that bottomless well that is the '80s American underground, the wall of sound by Squirrel Bait, and prop it up with the guitar acrobatics of Fugazi, who are also evoked in the vocal harmonies of Bon Nanna and Chris Broach, sort of more naive Ian MacKaye and Guy Picciotto with the desire to change the world left under the carpet. Twelve songs so rich in crooked yet dreamlike melodies, with tempo changes and sudden accelerations, as meticulously crafted in form as they are immediate in content. With this "Frame & Canvas", Braid leave behind the uncertainties of their beginnings and unripe records like their debut, "Franky Welfare Boy Age Five" ('95). They're like Cap'n Jazz (also from Illinois, but from Chicago) less overwhelming, with more thoughtful and multifaceted songwriting that can also remind one of Drive Like Jehu, while maintaining the synthesis caused by their restless teen exuberance. 

Braid disbanded in '99 (their last performance is included in "Lucky to Be Alive", released posthumously in 2000), and they reunited in 2004 just for a tour with an accompanying DVD. The reasons that drove them to make music were predictable, but this last one was anything but predictable. Theirs is one of the most original emo-core of the time, which makes them recognizable compared to the myriad of copycat bands proliferating in the '90s. 

"Frame & Canvas" is a beautiful burst of youth. And that's why I like it.

P.S.: Also commendable is Bob Nanna's solo project, The City on Film. "In Formal Introduction" is a pearl of ballads à la Elliott Smith. Check it out!