I didn’t know it before I listened to Rat Farm, but I’d been listening to the Meat Puppets for almost my entire life. Their signature’s all over my all-time faves— the band that subtly illuminated a number of now-iconic underground/indie/punk bands of the ’80s and ’90s.
This band, which started as a rock-reverent act in ’80s post-hardcore scenes out west, lumbers with lore behind them; it was 20 years ago this month that they toured as an opening act for some Seattle “grunge” band called Nirvana. And, when Rat Farm came out this Spring, it was 19 years since Meat Puppets were further legitimized, fleetingly, by MTV when Nirvana invited them for a collaborative performance of some of their back catalog to a live televised audience: Nirvana’s leg- endary MTV Unplugged set.
SST Record’s road warrior crop (like Meat Puppets, Minutemen and Black Flag) were overshadowed by new acts cribbing the “grunge” formula. The Meat Pup- pets went on hiatus in ’95, got back together but broke up again in the early ’00s, only to celebrate (and sus- tain) a proper reunion in 2006, all the while, releasing full length albums steadily, whenever they could.
And that’s how it’s been—this band’s always just quietly done their thing, never preening to pop tastes. And it’s been their thing because new ears opening to Rat Farm will hear the lineage linking the later-era “Amerindie” bands buffering 90’s college-rock radio (Dinosaur Jr, Pavement, Guided By Voices)—in these fresh-yet-somewhat-nostalgic jams.
Still, Rat Farm would be a strange introduction; singer/guitarist Curt Kirkwood admitted to keep- ing things pretty straightforward, downplaying their
proclivities towards mashing psyche-rock, punk and cool-creepy country-warble. Guitar chords cascade in a jangle of warm, summery tones on “Down,” as a steady beat kicks things forward and the bass gallops along with the glee of the rollicking jam’s major keys; lyrics, though, sing of downward trajectories and kids with swords rooting around garbage bins. Charmingly weird—pretty much their M.O.
They entice with driving rhythms, jaunty bass lines and unabashedly throwback-ish riff-fests with hook- happy guitars, coaxing you onto the Farm until you’re steadily unsettled by the freaky lyrical livestock. The title track skips to reggae chords while Kirkwood’s raspy midrange drawl quickly makes you “feel the pain” of chains and whips, fire and crashing ocean waves. Ab- struse, yet affecting, right?
There are ’90s-harkening halfpipe whirls of space- rock guitars in “One More Drop.” “Leave Your Head Alone” starts out as a spooky psyche-ballad with un-raveling guitar before thundering into a fervent storm punched along by some mean, militaristic drums. It’s a straightforward record, sure, but it doesn’t get stale. The Puppets persevered by doing what they wanted, when it felt right, and Farm sounds confident. Who knows what the harvest season will reap for these rock farmers?
Meat Puppets return to Toledo with Enemy Planes on Wednesday, October 2. 8pm. $10. Frankie’s. 308 S. Main St. 419-693-5300. frankiesinnercity.com
