Loss Leaders [Spoon Feeder: Vol. 2]

This is the second installment of "Spoon Feeder", a [hopefully] regular feature wherein I examine, dissect and reflect on selections from the vast and spectacular Spoon catalog.





1997's Soft Effects EP was released only eight months or so after Spoon's debut LP, Telephono, and it is a striking document of the rapidity of the band's maturity. Telephono was a spiky, abrasive, confrontational record; the polished pop tastefulness that Spoon is now synonymous with peeked out here and there amidst the buzz and crash, but for the most part it was still somewhat buried under post-Pixies squall and post-Pavement squalor. That roughness did not disappear on Soft Effects (and indeed remains part of the band's arsenal), but the elevation in songwriting consistency is still remarkable, and the textural and stylistic diversity of the wide-ranging EP must have at the time suggested that there few limits to Spoon's ability to manipulate indie rock forms into fresh and exciting shapes: we have the majestic crash of pocket-epic "Mountain to Sound", the jaunty pop of "Waiting for the Kid to Come Out", the low-key drone-pop of "I Could See the Dude", and the dark, sinister, sensual fuzz-rock churn of "Get Out the State".

And then there is "Loss Leaders". One of the last Spoon songs I discovered in my time spent trawling back through their catalog, the EP-ender is still a sentimental favorite. "Loss Leaders" is a bright, fresh-faced, unabashed pop song, bursting with the sparkling jangle of Daniel's guitar (Rachel noted the superficial resemblance the song bears to 90's alterna-rock, a la Gin Blossoms; in this vein see also: "Sister Jack"). As an early instance of particularly excellent work, you can hear in it the blueprint for future successes, the Spoon road map to pop-domination. To wit:

1. For a band who operates with such high standards of craft, Spoon has always done a great job adding little bits of in-studio dialog, or snatches of pseudo-improvised guitar strums or drum hits etc., as if surreptitiously captured in studio sessions as the tapes rolled. The little guitar fumbling on the intro to this song is a lovely example. All these thoughtful little details infuse Spoon songs with an approachability and an tangibility, make them feel more organic, more human, less like hermetically-sealed pieces of artifice.

2. Britt Daniel has a very distinctive approach to guitar-work; I remember reading somewhere that he basically thinks he is a poor guitar player, but he sells himself short: he plays like a true songwriter. His guitar playing is extremely compositionally-driven, with a strong melodic sense, and his playing is always rhythmically dynamic and interesting (in fact you could say he expertly straddles the line between rhythm and lead guitar playing), no matter that his parts would pose little challenge to a guitarist of even moderate skill. His signature style is showcased on "Loss Leaders": note the brash open-strumming chords of the verses, ever-fluid with their continuous little hammer-ons; note the echo-y chirping guitar stab-and-slides that balance against solemn single downward strums in the pre-chorus; note the highly melodic and utterly simple guitar picking in the muted instrumental chorus; note the dramatic palm-muted strums that lead us back from that pensive section back into the wide-open glory of the verse again; note the lyrical pseudo-solo that issues forth during the last instrumental chorus/outro. The three minutes and thirty seconds of "Loss Leaders" pass quickly. It can be easy to miss Britt Daniel's guitar pouring out all these volumes of musical wit.

3. Perhaps Spoon's core asset is Britt Daniel's voice and delivery; he is a master at coming up with muscular vocal hooks, and is particularly good at keeping his cadences and vocal rhythms dynamic and punchy; notice how in "Loss Leaders" he chops up his syllables in a percussive staccato manner in the first section of the song, then stretches out his notes into a scratchy-throated croon for maximum effect in the next. Also, as the lovely wordless refrain of "Sha-no-my" (roughly) displays, he is adept at creating catchy little non-word vocalizations in the grand pop tradition of shoo-be-doo's and koo-koo-ka-choo's. As seen in his guitarwork, his melodic sense, his taste for what works, is incredibly consistent.

4. Also, the intonation and delivery of Daniel's vocals tend to do the lion's share of the emotional work in Spoon's songs, as his lyrics can sometimes be obscure, indiscernible, or mundane. This is true of "Loss Leaders": although the first line is classic Spoon meta-lyricism, an ode to the sheer joy of making music ("I get up and all I got on my mind is thinking up brand new chords"), what follows is apparently about the murder of Chicago-area Black Panthers leader Fred Hampton in 1969 (?!?). Definitely noConveniently, Britt Daniel's impassioned slurring can, as here, often increase the impact of his vocals by reducing their clarity; in their ambiguity, the emotional undercurrent of the backing music and vocal delivery are heightened.

5. Though their contributions are usually less obvious than Britt Daniel's, drummer Jim Eno and bassist (until 2007) Joshua Zarbo, provide solid rhythmic support, steady and emphatic, and contributing a few little unobtrusive but engaging musical flourishes that great rock rhythm sections utilize to maximize the listenability of the song (for an example of a rhythm section that takes this technique to a near-absurd extreme, dangling at the edge of excess and yet still manages to still sound fantastic, see Carlos D and Sam Fogarino of Interpol). Some flourishes of note: the little off-time bass riff at each second iteration of the pre-chorus "Sha-No-My"; Jim Eno's tight little stuttering fill at 0:56.

But what helps make this song a personal favorite is not just its mastery of pop form and structure: after all that criteria would sweep in a great many Spoon songs. No, what deepens my affection for the song is its undercurrent of longing, detectable to a small degree from those very first plaintive, false-improv intro guitar notes. The boisterous verse manages to shade over a great deal of that sentiment (though once aware of the emotion's existence, the contrast arguably enhances the effect), but something in the particular vector of the verse vocal melody nevertheless bears it through, until we reach the achingly melancholy prechorus and chorus, and it rises to the forefront again. "Loss Leaders" is thus a peculiar alchemy of revelry and regret, somewhat like looking through old photo albums filled with smiling young faces, and being touched by that old joy, yet simultaneously recalling loneliness between those moments that went uncaptured by any camera. The evocation of this blissful, nostalgic ache is what gives "Loss Leaders" its powerful appeal, and secures it pride of place as a standout in the stellar Spoon catalog.