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I have this old cassette called «Freedom of Choice», it doesn’t matter how and why.
It’s a collection of tracks from the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, roughly categorized within the wave genre, covered by more or less popular bands of the following decade, including some notable names like Sonic Youth, Redd Kross, Mudhoney, Yo La Tengo.
Sonic Youth opens the collection with a ruinous and noisy cover of «Ca Plane pour Moi» by Plastic Bertrand, and Superchunk closes it with their scathing and jarring version of «Girl U Want» by Devo.
«Freedom of Choice» was released in 1992, and at that time, Superchunk had two albums out, their self-titled debut and «No Pocky for Kitty»; they weren’t very well known yet, and only a few years later did people begin to cite «No Pocky for Kitty» as one of the seminal albums that defined the coordinates of the indie sound of the ‘90s and beyond, mainly thanks to the efforts of college radios in the U.S. that turned that record into a cult phenomenon.
It's at this juncture that Superchunk could have easily stepped into the spotlight, but they hesitated not one bit, rejecting the advances of all the major labels that sent emissaries knocking at their door waving five-figure contracts, choosing instead to stay with Merge, the record label they had built to preserve their vision of “making music.”
While Merge carved out a name for itself, welcoming leading figures and bright hopes of the indie scene, Superchunk continued their music career with steadfast consistency, without altering their formula too much, a power-pop sound that decisively leaned towards punk-pop and, in certain respects, recalled the sonic attitude and philosophy of latter-day Husker Du, those of «Candy Apple Grey» and «Warehouse: Songs and Stories»; if they’d wanted to, they could have jumped on the Weezer bandwagon that were making waves for a season – year of our Lord 1994, «Buddy Holly» – but Superchunk were not Weezer, they were decidedly better.
Thus they went on to release eight albums between 1990 and 2001, never showing signs of waning passion and inspiration, then silence and the certainty that the story of Superchunk had reached the word “end.” Nonsense: in 2010 they returned – excellently, with «Majesty Shredding» – another album in 2013 and then another five years of waiting.
In February 2018, «What a Time to Be Alive» was released, a time too grim to live in: the times were those of Donald Trump seated in the Oval Office of the White House, and this was Superchunk’s first “political” album. Yet if Trump’s election was the pretext for works of absolute significance like «Cost of Living» by Downtown Boys or «Invitation» by Filthy Friends or this latest from Superchunk, then long and prosperous life to the president.
Because «What a Time to Be Alive» is a great album, and the best way to summarize it is by borrowing the words of Mac McCaughan: «It would be absurd to be in a band, or at least this band, make a record and pretend to ignore the context in which we must live and our children must grow. It’s an album about the terrible and depressing situation we find ourselves facing but it’s not a terrible and depressing album to listen to.».
On the contrary, «What a Time to Be Alive» is an album brimming with passion and anger that resolves into an aversion to the state of affairs and that, to paraphrase Joe Strummer, doesn’t let you accept bullshit as answers but leads you to seek the truth, to say it as well as want to hear it; something closely tied to youth and youthful impulses, and so it’s no coincidence that the heart of the album lies largely in the splendid «Reagan Youth» and in the recognition that: «To be truthful, there’s been more than one Reagan youth.».
Untamed punk spirits, Superchunk, and an equally marked taste for melody that emerges powerfully from the avalanche of sound of two guitars, bass, and drums in tracks like the extraordinary «Erasure» – further ennobled by the presence of Stephin Merritt of Magnetic Fields – and in the ballads (punk, but still ballads) «All for You» and «Black Thread» that close the album.
And so, with hindsight, it’s as if the Sonic Youth opening the dance on that famous cassette I mentioned at the beginning handed the baton over to Superchunk who closes it, to staunchly maintain a certain concept of independence, consistency, and dignity, not only in music.
An extraordinary group, Superchunk.
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