Squint - Steve Taylor (1993) While Steve Taylor's reputation for challenging, even confrontational music has probably infuriated as many critics as it has won over fans, his songs generally seem to mitigate the inherent polemic with his in-your-face offbeat humour. Squint, however, is effective in its opposite impression. It gains an edge not found in much of his previous work by accentuating its very seriousness, allowing its quirky undercurrent to permeate more subtly.
For example, the title character in "The Lament Of Desmond R. G. Underwood-Frederick IV", (87), has just had that visit to the doctor that no one ever wants to have. "The news of my impending death," he says, "came at a really bad time for me." As Desmond examines his life, Taylor unsheathes his satiric blade against the self-absorption of new age psychology. Yet the shelves of bookstores to this day are lined with self-help theories that offer no tangible aid but to the author's bank account.
In "Bannerman", (73), Taylor is joined by former Chagall Guevara bandmate Dave Perkins on guitar. A tribute to the guys who hold up those John 3:16 signs at football games and such, Taylor has gone to great lengths in interviews to dispel any cynical slant to the song. "He ain't gonna change the world," Taylor sings of his hero, "but he knows who can." Perhaps a little dated in a post-"Stone Cold" Steve Austin world, but even Austin's catchphrase affirms that the direct boldness of "Bannerman"'s actions still resonate in the memories of many today. Accordingly, then, its composition is the most like cheeky 80s-Taylor of anything on Squint.
The complacency of those who should know better is an oft-shot target of Taylor throughout this album. Self-satisfaction is revved up to outright pomposity on the next song, though, called "Smug", (87). Comparing the posing and posturing of the church to the chest-beating and self-promotion of political pundits like Rush Limbaugh and the shallow beauty and pageantry of fashion models, Taylor has obviously heard enough sermons with all the sincerity of an awards show thank-you speech.
"Welcome to our church," he sings, "Strike the proud pose of our country club brethren, friendly as a tomb." It brings to mind Jesus' rant in Matthew 23:27: "Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You look like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of dead men's bones and everything unclean." Phil Madeira's turn as an arrogant teacher as the song fades out is bone-chilling.
Rare indeed is it to come across someone who truly gets it as much as Taylor in the song "Jesus Is For Losers", (97), (http://www.mediafire.com/?s56cuhyvjr5zmzo). Christ himself told the self-righteous religious leaders of his day that his purpose was to bring physical and spiritual relief to the sick and to sinners. Where a self-satisfied piety fostered exclusivity and kept the religious adherents away from those they felt beneath them, Jesus ministered to prostitutes, cheats, the downtrodden and the ignored. As Taylor writes, "the self-made need not apply." That is good news even today for those shunned and cast aside as irrelevant by a world determined only to feed its own insatiable gut. There seems to be little difference today even in so many churches more interested in serving themselves than the obvious needs of others.
But this song deftly swerves from becoming a self-righteous condemnation itself. Riffing a bit on John Newton's "Amazing Grace" (1779) and Charlotte Elliot's "Just As I Am" (1835), Taylor knows the depravity of his own heart, exposing his own "stiff-necked" pride by calling himself an easily distracted, fame-hungry "fool" and "wretch." In somber reflection, he realizes, "we both know what we deserve." Sick of following himself around in fruitless circles, he finds redemption in a humble breakdown breakthrough "at the foot of the cross." Accepting the radical dichotomies of Christ, where the first is last and strength is manifest in weakness, Taylor presents a mature understanding that it is only through brokenness that he is made whole.
No less powerful a song is "The Finish Line", (96), (http://www.mediafire.com/?ncsa2cgyx6xy421). Bold and honest, it recounts the inevitable fall from grace that occurs from even the most inspired and determined intentions. Racing off with a promise to be true, the protagonist of this song discounts how utterly difficult the oncoming days of life really are ("as every little god buys its pound of flesh"), as the narrow path gets tighter and smaller and farther and farther away from where the majority of everyone else seems to be headed. It doesn't take long before the "vision blurs," as "the heart is weak, the will is gone and every strong conviction comes tumbling down."
With strength beyond himself, however, the protagonist's story echoes the words of Paul to Timothy: "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith," (2 Timothy 4:7). Even through times of hiding, injury, hypocrisy and frustration, this "average" guy is never abandoned by a loving and faithful God. He learns, however eventually, from his knocks and proceeds "bloodied but wise as [he] squint[s] with the light of the truth in [his] eyes" to complete that which he has begun, keeping a "steady ... gaze" toward "the finish line."
"The Moshing Floor", (91), is certainly a child of 1993. Taking the malaise of the grunge movement, exemplified through perfectly disinterested backing vocals, "whatever, whatever", this song thrashes its way through the disillusionment of a generation adrift. Challenging the apathy, focusing the energy, still recognizing its creative force, Taylor's song offers encouragement to the hopeless as opposed to the rejection and abandonment they are more familiar with.
A similar idea is worked from a different angle on "Easy Listening", (91), as a grandfather in 2044 chastises his grandchildren for trying to rouse a fat, sacred cow. Over a wicked reggae-gone-weird drop, he pines for a return to the comfortable religion of his turn-of-the-century youth, our current times, marked by the churches we well know, devoted to thick wallets, big cars and housekeepers. "I didn't hear none of this 'sacrifice' bull," he informs his grandchildren whose fuss-raising is extremely inconvenient. Preferring the "sweet nothings" of a silver tongue to the gravel voice of hard truth is the spiritual equivalent to listening to Barry Manilow.
Psalm 37 provides the chorus to "Curses", (93), an expression of God's enduring protection and faithfulness. The verses of the song, austere but mobilized on an abundant bass line, contrast that with the all-too common modern horror of men, so full of self-interest, ditching their wives and families. As Jerry McPherson's guitar skillfully surges and wanes, Taylor pulls no punches, calling such men outright "deserter[s]."
Nailing Prince-like vocals along with The Revolution's signature soft funk as well as anyone up until the Flaming Lips' "Free Radicals (A Hallucination Of The Christmas Skeleton Pleading With A Suicide Bomber)" from At War With The Mystics (2006), "Sock Heaven", (83), fashions an effective washer/dryer analogy. Like the sock missing its match after being put through the wringer and tumbled around recklessly, this song questions the seeming careless nature of the universe.
While accepting his absolute inability to fathom God's actions, ("I was sure you were sovereignly watching us dangle"), Taylor trusts nevertheless, ("Don't get it now, but I'll get it ... in sock heaven"). Appealing to misfits everywhere, those who "didn't want more than to be understood," Taylor's empathy echoes the spirit of W.A. Fletcher's classic, (arranged by J.R. Baxter and W.B. Stevens), "Farther Along" (1911).
The first act of the album closer, "Cash Cow (A Rock Opera In Three Small Acts)", (88), is basically a cappella stage instructions, the tolling of bells bringing on act two and the meat of the song. Taylor recites a fable based loosely on Exodus 32, where the children of Israel "and most of the adults" erect their golden idol in the shape of a calf. Again, this song does not presume to stand in judgment of others, but is rather an amber light. It cautions just how easy it is for even ourselves to be swayed by the distant sound of a cash register going off in our hearts. "I too was hypnotized," Taylor writes, "the last time I uttered those three little words: 'I deserve better!" This is followed by a thirty-second intermission
and act three, an instrumental guitar, strings and drum rock-out which wraps up the album with authority. Taylor's label at the time was Warner Brothers, which allowed him to pop the image of Bugs Bunny on the promo "Lament ..." CD cover. This disc, released to radio stations, features rock single "The Lament Of Desmond R.G. Underwood-Frederick IV" along with Adult Contemporary single "Jesus Is For Losers". Also included are twenty so-called "Squintlets", Taylor's director's commentary, as it were. With the exceptions of "Jesus Is For Losers" and "Easy Listening", Taylor discusses his inspiration and ideas behind each Squint track.
Besides a live album two years later and a couple of compilation appearances, Squint remains Steve Taylor's final musical output. Working more in the medium of film since then, Taylor could hardly have chosen a more courageous album to go out on. Unloading unabashedly on an egomaniacal world where every selfish decision compounds the hurt and suffering of others, and in no way exempting his own culpability, this album points to our need for something bigger than ourselves for hope and redemption.
Squint (album): 88/100.
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