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The people who, in life, leave an indelible mark are truly few. The friend with whom I shared that piece of asphalt enough to roll a ball for endless hours and scrape the same knee thousands of times, the grandfather who showed me his starting pistol used in the war and told me, quite a few years before I read the Voyage, about the stupidity of human beings, are among those who changed me the most from the inside.
There are albums that, like people, are destined to be a part of me until I kick the bucket. When I bought "New Day Rising" on a smoky and freezing January afternoon where – I like to remember – it seemed that the fog was the continuation of the gray trail of cigarettes and the cold drafts of air also wanted shelter in the sleeves of my coat, it immediately ended up in the most privileged section of my shelf, in the row of Great Loves, next to the other records with which I have made a pact of affection (almost of blood), namely "You're Living All Over Me", "Bleach", "Milo Goes to College" and "It's Alive"; all those records that pushed me, on another afternoon, to buy a knock-off Stratocaster, for a few euros, and to start playing/abusing it to unleash my frustrations. The magic of rock, within me, was born with them.
Born in the turning year 1985, it is an album completely different from its predecessor, from that "Zen Arcade" for which I feel an even greater love, but very different. For "Zen Arcade" I feel an esoteric love, an admiration with almost mystical contours, perhaps because it is the first album where I touched the feeling of perfection, where I saw all meanings perfectly blend with their signifiers; perhaps the esteemed Hüsker Dü felt the same way, as from their supreme Masterpiece, they did not extract any singles, granting it, perhaps by chance, that ethereal dimension, that timeless beauty perfectly ascribable from its context. This is not the same case for "New Day Rising", which is the one that truly fulfilled the revolution of the Hüskers and that, in January of '85, said almost everything that was to be said in the following decade.
It was the first album I bought from my imaginary friends Bob, Greg, and Grant and it is almost like a damn photo gallery of my – not yet finished, thank God - adolescence. I remember when I faced head-on my anger against everything and everyone, listening to "Girl Who Lives On Heaven Hill" and the bleeding vocal cords of Hart; of that "I Apologize" that, listening to it, seemed like a pat on the back from Mould, companion of the same pains. And what about the countless times, laying on a bed, I listened to that whisper immersed in the muddy sound of his Flying V in "Perfect Example"? Or of "Celebrated Summer" which, veiled with that irresistible melancholy, still makes me escape a bit from my high school routine and still makes me dream a bit that it is possible not to become like everyone else and of "I Don't Know What You're Talking About", which I would have wanted to shout in the faces of many people. "Terms Of Psychic Warfare" is perhaps the song I feel most attached to and it brings back memories of when, coming back from school, I tossed my bag in a dusty corner of my room, started it, bounced to the rhythm of that unforgettable crescendo and, forgetting about everything and everyone, sang along with Hart "c'mon, babe... there are the terms!". But I would not want to overlook "59 Times the Pain", almost an echo of the quarrels with my conscience, or of "How to Skin a Cat", the soundtrack of my paranoias and the memories they drag along, still alive and pulsing inside me.
"New Day Rising" is the album where the two souls, musical and not, of Mould and Hart visibly separate (in "Zen Arcade” they were almost a single entity), with the former perfecting his fuzzy sound wall, here elevated as a work of art, adding a new emotional tension almost as if he were playing the strings of his own feelings and the latter, after memorizing his old Beatles and Dylan records, evolves hardcore and guarantees a future for the next musical generation. "Books About UFOs" bears witness to it, a ballad genuinely smelling of the sixties (if I say Lennon-esque it sounds cliché), as if these were two profoundly different but equally troubled souls, held together by the mild Greg Norton, perhaps always a bit in the shadows but worthy of lavish praise for his always perfect bass lines, among the most beautiful ever heard.
The Hüsker Dü are that group that made me realize that an overweight pile of crap starting to play his deceased brother’s drums, who died very young hit by a freaking hit-and-run driver, that a pudgy homosexual fleeing the most hypocritical and respectable bourgeoisie (like J Mascis, another of my romantic heroes) and that a shy guy with a mustache who, in order not to be completely blinded by the spotlights, goes back to running a restaurant have much more to say than any other jerk. They nurtured me, shaped me, and showed me – I believe – the way. And, yes, damn it, to Greg, Bob, and Grant I owe at least a beer.
Tracklist Lyrics and Samples
02 Girl Who Lives on Heaven Hill (03:06)
There's a girl who lives on Heaven Hill
I go up to her cabin still
She keeps a lantern lit for me
And a bottle up on her mantelpiece
She's the girl who lives on Heaven Hill
She's got a big room and it's always a mess
Worn out shoes and a worn out dress
A worn out smile that she'll wear some more
And a worn out welcome mat by her door
I'd trade big mountains and rooms full of gold
For just one look at the beauty of this woman's soul
Up on Heaven Hill is where I wanna be
That girl, that bottle, that mattress, and me
03 I Apologize (03:37)
All these crazy mixed up lies
Floating all around
Making these assumptions brings me down
And you get tight-lipped, how do I know what you think?
Is it something I said when I lost my mind?
Temper too quick, makes me blind
I apologize...
Said I'm sorry, now it's your turn,
Can you look me in the eyes and apologize?
So now sit around staring at the walls
We don't do anything at all
Take out the garbage, maybe, but the dishes don't get done
04 Folk Lore (01:36)
Women sewed the Stars and Stripes
And the men, they fought the wars
The children learned arithmetic
And everyone was poor
Young man was the hero of the day
Long long hours, short short pay
Lesson I learned in history book, now
It's not what they told me
Folk lore, folk lore, folk lore
Your momma never told you
Now the women scream for equal rights
Their man wants to have an affair
Children learn to hate the world
And no one seems to care
Now the kids play vids instead
Their heroes are living on Wonder Bread
Lesson I learned in history book, now
It's not what they told me
Folk lore, folk lore, folk lore
Your momma never told you that
Some things never change
Some things stay the same
Some things rearranged
One thing I know for sure, your heroes always die
06 Celebrated Summer (04:02)
Love and hate was in the air, like pollen from a flower
Somewhere in April time, they add another hour
I guess I better think up a way to spend my time
Just when I'm ready to sit inside, it's summertime
Should I go swimming or get a friend to hang around
It's back to summer, it's back to basics, hang around
Getting drunk out on the beach, or playing in a band
And getting out of school meant getting out of hand
Was this your celebrated summer? Was that your celebrated summer?
Then the sun disintegrates between a wall of clouds
I summer where I winter at, and no one is allowed there
Do you remember when the first snowfall fell?
When summer barely had a snowball's chance in hell?
07 Perfect Example (03:17)
I never look back at it, but it's always in front of me
It's always worth the hurt, but I know it's hurting me
I'll never let go if it because it's all that's going for me
I'll put it in the past when the past is history
A perfect example is all the things it's done to me
I think I might lose my mind, but not my memory
A perfect example is what we all wish we could be
I think I might lose my mind
I think I might lose my mind
You think you might lose your mind
But not the memory, means a lot to me
08 Terms of Psychic Warfare (02:19)
Well, I see you walking down the road
And the thoughts within my mind explode
But having to hold back taught me a lot about control
And letting all loose at once when it was time to let you know
You occupied my space and you occupied your mind
By jumping off the roof to the first conclusion you can find
Now all the silver you can steal
Can't buy a piece of what I feel
It's sad, but the means, they just don't justify the ends
To be forever haunted by the ghosts of all your friends
Painful, yeah, that's the way you've chosen it to be
C'mon, babe, can't you think of anyone besides me?
These are the terms!
Now don't think you're the only who has harboured a self-hate
I'm just as guilty of selling what my own sweet soul creates
And don't feel bad the next time my memory comes creepin'
You've got your own bed now, I suggest that's the one you sleep in
10 Powerline (02:24)
What's this humming in my head
Was it something that someone said
It's connecting us with them
Electric wires turned on again
It aggravates, and it pacifies
Hear the power in the lines
Strung high on every pole
How can this power be bought and sold?
Trying to harness solar rays
Making minutes seem like days
It captivates, and it hypnotizes
Hear the power in the lines
Powerline
11 Books About UFOs (02:49)
Walking down a sunny street to the library
Checking out the latest books about outer space
Going to the fruit stand to buy a dozen oranges
Then she and the books and the oranges go back to her place
She tells the same old story to everyone that she knows
She's just sitting in her room reading books about UFOs
Sometimes I see her sitting on the rooftop
Perched on a lawnchair and staring into the sky
I know somewhere in some faraway galaxy
That some gray men with telescopes are gazing right into her eyes
She tells the same old story to everyone that she knows
She's just sitting in her room reading books about UFOs
Her life revolves around all of the planets
And she is constantly aware of all the changes that occur
I'm going to turn into a lens and focus all my attention
On finding a new planet and naming it right after her
She tells the same old story to everyone that she knows
She's just sitting in her room reading books about UFOs
13 How to Skin a Cat (01:52)
Glorious Opportunity To Get Rich!!! -- We are starting a cat ranch in Lacon
with 100,000 cats. Each cat will average 12 kittens a year. The cat skins will
sell for 30 cents each. One hundred men can skin 5,000 cats a day. We figure a
daily net profit of over $10,000. Now what shall we feed the cats? We will
start a rat farm next door with 1,000,000 rats. The rats breed 12
times faster than the cats. So we will have four rats to feed each day to each
cat. Now what shall we feed the rats? We will feed the rats the carcasses of
the cats after they have been skinned.
Now Get This! We feed the rats to the cats and the cats to the rats and get the
cat skins for nothing! We feed the rats to the cats and the cats to the rats
and get the cat skins for nothing! We feed the rats to the cats and the cats to
the rats and get the cat skins for nothing!
14 Whatcha Drinkin' (01:33)
I don't care what you say, I don't care what you're drinking today
I don't care what they say, I'll be drinking today
I try not to drink anymore
I try not to drink anymore, and try not to think anymore
15 Plans I Make (04:22)
I gotta make plans for the plans I make
Gotta have friends for the friends I make
I gotta make plans for the friends I make
Gotta have friends for the plans I make
Go make plans
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Other reviews
By Festwca
It’s incredible how the songs are as catchy and engaging as pop music but at the same time imbued with the violence and desperation typical of hardcore.
Music written and played with heart on sleeve, impulsively, leaving one breathless with the sincerity and violence of the emotions.
By Nevadagaz
"An (im)perfect sonic storm that overwhelms, disturbs, and at times takes your breath away."
"The songs are among the best the boys have ever written, brimming with pathos and always strong and moving."
