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Rating:
Anyone who had the chance to catch a glimpse and/or audio-follow the Buffalo Tom sound-path from their first, bubbling, eponymous debut released under the historic SST label (one of the most intriguing acoustic forges of the "non-conforming" rock of the late eighties), upon the release of the described "Big Red Letter Day" and/or its predecessor "Let Me Come Over", perceived the steady accomplishment of an artistic parabola in a fully positive ascending phase.
This concise, confidential, red missive left to posterity now in the last century (1993) by the Bostonian trio contains within itself a passionate and vital rock-guitaristic substance combined with a integral, never banal, vocal melodious/interpretative inclination; Bill Yanovitz and his two truly inseparable friends/adventure companions practically demonstrated, should there be a need, that the ultra-classic/overused rock triad of guitar+bass and drums, if adequately supported by ingenuity and intelligence (of course), can (and always should) offer ample and rich audio-satisfactions. The three astute rockers in question, far from being musically un/Buffaloed, were improperly and forcibly compared (damn labels...) to peers from the semi-same chronological-expressive context (Dinosaur Jr, Husker Du etc.): commendable works like this sequentially fourth one, on the other hand, demonstrate an evident emanation of brilliant and (dazzling) light of their own. While not radically and completely revolutionizing/innovating any already known rock-tenet, they often paralleled, if not occasionally surpassed, with substantial class and positive expressed peculiarities, their presumable inspirers: a performing corpus composed of a solid backbone episodically still characterized by the sharp tones of the beginnings (indie-post-punk), wisely moderated to abundant and melodious, never cloying, vocal embellishments, the result also of the commendable alternating mic work of the two voices.
In all probability, "Big Red Letter Day" does not fully represent the creative apex of the three young men from Massachusetts, but it "simply" (and jealously) preserves within itself some of the most intriguing (intriguing + pleasant) and successful songs of the not so copious Buffalo-discography: "Tree House" with its crystalline vocal intertwining over a vibrant rhythmic base, the intense "Would Not Be Denied", or "I'm allowed", a caressing, multifaceted yet raw gem, leave genuinely satisfied by their astute and solid rock-grace, immense confidential pathos, and harmonic development; the entire work, composed of eleven tracks for just over forty minutes in total duration, repeatedly delivers abundant and intense fragments of rock-vertiginous quality.
Almost relegated to the sound-forgotten drawer, despite (in truth, not all of the same qualitative caliber) six studio albums drafted over about a decade (outtakes & b-sides not included), one objectively encounters one of the many yet glaring and unjust musical/oversights (let's put it this way...) of the fervent, though all too often sterile, under and overground confederate rock scene pertaining to the last decade of the previous millennium.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 Sodajerk (04:27)
Watch an eyeball
Take a free fall
At the mention of a name
In its socket
And like a rocket
Rises just the same
Could my eyelids
(could my eye)
Cover what I did
The shuttin of the door
And could these ceilings
Contain my feelings
Me down on the floor
Jerked my fountain
Ice cream mountains
I suppose I'm just too late
Form a line here
Think I'll die here
These people nauseate me
But if my patience
Were a spaceship
High up in orbit
I would rise here
Hypnotized here
Risen from where I sit
A solid angle
My legs do dangle
Off the counter's edge
Soft words spoken
Promises broken
I Close my eyes instead
But could my eyelids
Cover what I did
The shuttin' of the door
Could these ceilings
Contain my feelings
Me down on the floor
Me down on the floor
Me down on the floor
Me down on the floor
02 I'm Allowed (04:21)
Waited for an answer
But I waited for twenty five years
They stopped my bleeding
But could never stop all these tears
I waited for the day when
You came out from beneath all that weight
I tried to lift it
But it seems I got there too
Late
Just to late
Just to late
Cause I'm allowed
Came to the party
But I got my own signals crossed
Thought I was welcome
But I felt like I should get lost
I know that I'm older
Cause I feel that everywhere
I could talk to no one
Cause I knew not one person
There
No one's there
They just stare
But they're allowed
As vivid as a car wreck
Watch them dripping off highway ramps
She came to me smiling
Her heart underneath both her hands
She spoke of a French boy
At least two times through the night
It could have been the liquor
Or the music but that is
All right
That's all right
She's allowed
I'm allowed
I'm allowed
I'm allowed
05 Latest Monkey (02:46)
The newest clown
Cries an old type of tears
Watch them fall
There they lie
Crispy, ancient and they leak
Formaldahyde
Going
Going I'm gone
Go away
Going
His tears they sit
Crusty, rusted in a box
Inside a drawer
Grandpa's news
Fragile words are yellowed through
Forever more
Going
Going I'm gone
Go away
Going
Sadder than sad
She's feeling bad
Monkey's the one who laughs last
Hold me down
Cut me loose when
Nighttime falls
And lifts away
I'm a ball
Bouncing off of a brick wall
Into the day
I'm Going
Going I'm gone
Go away
Going I'm gone
Gone
I am gone I am gone
Go away
Going
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