Review Summary: A chance to make an all-time classic slips through its grasp. Instead, this truly unique band created a varied album that may leave you wanting more. Perhaps more of the same or perhaps something better.
It’s the late 1990s. I must have been writing a term paper. A Saturday Night Live re-run is on in the background, and I hear some generic European actor I never heard of say “Ladies and Gentlemen, put your hands together for Fishbone.” I had never heard any of their music up to that point, but one of my friends saw them live many years earlier, and said they were great. I stopped typing, and had a look. They preceded to rip into Sunless Saturday, and I thought “Man, these guys ARE good.” I waited for their second song. What a song it was! Everyday Sunshine indeed. I was mesmerized. I could not take my eyes off the screen. Those 2 performances are still among my 10 favorite televised performances. So, I checked what album those songs were on, and bought the CD the next day.
While broadly categorized as an alternative rock, this is a record that is all over the place. Metal, hardcore, funk, soul, loud, soft, hopeful, hopeless, erotic, political, serious, foolish, whatever. I suppose that is what happens when you have six songwriters. I suspect most listeners will find the variability within the record as both its strength and its limitation. The highs of Everyday Sunshine and Sunless Saturday are not reached elsewhere on the record. In fact, there are a couple skippable songs (Naz-Tee May’en and Babyhead). Six of the 18 tracks are short songs or goofs, seven if you count Junkies Prayer, but that one is longer. The wildness of their live performance is polished away by major label ambitions for mainstream appeal. Nevertheless, the musicianship of the players stands up.
As with many records, some of the lyrics are very of-the-time, and removes you a bit from the music. Many references to the crack epidemic of the 1990s, but one line that stand out is “I cannot grow up to be the president,” referencing how a Black man cannot reach the greatest highest in the United States. Taken literally, it turns out Angelo Moore was wrong. Nevertheless, it still strikes a powerful chord. The meaning has now changed to highlight the importance of seeing someone like you achieve something in order for you to believe it is possible for you. (Do an image search for “Obama child touches hair.”)
Every time I listen to this record, I come away feeling like a transcendent record was just out of Fishbone’s reach. That potential was never realized. Their guitarist Kendall Jones began suffering from a chronic mental illness. Ultimately, he joined a cult and their bassist Norwood Fisher was arrested (not convicted) for trying to kidnap him back. Then their keyboardist Chris Dowd over dissatisfaction over writing songs, and the record label pushing Angelo to sing instead of him. Just like that, with their two primary song writers gone, Fishbone’s potential for greatness was snuffed out.
