I suppose anything released when I was eleven years old has an unfair advantage. However, it is with more than nostalgic fondness that I look back on Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. This is, undoubtedly, a monumental album, a triumph even for a band whose sound dominated ’90s rock.1
Everything about Mellon Collie is staggering. A 28-song double album from a mainstream rock band.2 Jimmy Chamberlin’s unbelievable drumming. The sonic breadth, hitting silly pop ditties (“We Only Come Out at Night”), vicious heavy metal (“Fuck You”), prog epics (“Porcelina of the Vast Oceans”) and everything in between. A slew of hit singles that even I haven’t managed to tire of yet (“Bullet with Butterfly Wings,” “1979,” “Tonight, Tonight,” “Zero,” “Muzzle,” and “Thirty-Three”). And “X.Y.U.” Oh my dear god in heaven, “X.Y.U.”
It’s embarrassing how much this album meant to me growing up. I listened to it constantly. It’s one of the very few albums for which I learned all the lyrics, although, in retrospect, the lyrics are far and away its weakest aspect. Once I developed the barest hint of skill on the guitar, I set about learning to play every song on it. I did. I still probably can. And it still evokes distinct memories from my youth, including the memory of when I found out that my dad had bought it.3
What’s not embarrassing is how goddamn good it still is. Until I started writing this up, it had been a while since I gave it a spin. Now I’m up to “Porcelina,” now as ever my favorite track on the album. It is, in many ways, a microcosm of everything great about the Smashing Pumpkins. It builds patiently, revels in soft-loud-soft dynamic shifts, layers on guitar after guitar after guitar. Chamberlin’s drumming is powerful but unorthodox, laden with flourishes that hint at his ridiculous chops without taking over the song. Much the same can be said about the guitar work, with subtle, gentle lead figures drifting in and around Billy Corgan’s vocals. And, just as it built patiently, it fades serenely, on swirling feedback and laid-back rhythm. The Pumpkins had a knack for marrying hard rock instrumentation and technique with beautiful songs; that knack set them apart from the rest of their alt-rock contemporaries.
The album’s only failings are in its perfection. Its finest moments are when the production is less slick: when Corgan’s voice takes on a snarling edge; the opening riff to “Where Boys Fear to Tread”; the simple acoustic figure that closes “Thru the Eyes of Ruby”; the unadorned “Stumbleine”; the tempo-building eruption at the heart of “X.Y.U.” The sound is, at times, too glossy. It can be impenetrable. This is a problem that runs through nearly the band’s entire catalog. Would that they had let their guard down just a little bit more often.
Still, on listening to something as immaculate as “Galapogos,” it’s hard to fault them. Their aim was always high; that they hit the mark so often is remarkable.
- And don’t you dare insinuate otherwise. I know where you live. I will break you. [↩]
- And, reportedly, these 28 were chosen from among 57 completed songs. Most bands probably don’t complete 57 songs ever. [↩]
- I learned this on the way to basketball practice. It was winter. I was totally fucking psyched. Not for the basketball practice; Allen Iverson and I share certain opinions on that subject. [↩]
Tags: nostalgia, smashing pumpkins