{"id":8551,"date":"2015-09-25T05:30:11","date_gmt":"2015-09-25T09:30:11","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blog.musoscribe.com\/?p=8551"},"modified":"2015-09-25T05:30:11","modified_gmt":"2015-09-25T09:30:11","slug":"album-review-marshal-crenshaw-392-the-ep-collection","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/blog.musoscribe.com\/index.php\/2015\/09\/25\/album-review-marshal-crenshaw-392-the-ep-collection\/","title":{"rendered":"Album Review: Marshall Crenshaw — #392: The EP Collection"},"content":{"rendered":"

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For better or worse (actually, for better and<\/em> worse) things used to be different: recording artists focused on their music, and the record company \u2013 or at least artist management \u2013 tended to business matters. Today that paradigm rarely exists: the artist is expected \u2013 no, s\/he is all but required<\/em> \u2013 to give time and effort to the task of marketing. In practical terms, that means the artist is expected to engage with his or her fan base in a way unimaginable even a decade ago. As a co-panelist of mine at a recent discussion on social media (look for my feature on that panel, coming soon to this space) put it, “Led Zeppelin<\/strong> never had to interact with their fans on Facebook.”<\/p>\n

Now, for many artists, this works fine: cutting out the middleman (hilariously and accurately personified in This is Spinal Tap<\/em>‘s Artie Fufkin of Polymer Records) is often a good thing, allowing participants to engage in a two-way dialogue that benefits all. If you’re an introverted artist, well, the new reality may pose some challenges.<\/p>\n

Back in the 1970s heyday of rock, mega-platinum acts such as Fleetwood Mac<\/strong> and Pink Floyd<\/strong><\/a> could go two, three or more years between album releases, and still count on a groundswell of support when they finally got around to releasing something new. But today’s music consumer (and I use that term advisedly) has a shorter attention span: give us something new and give it to us often, they seem to say to the artist, or we’ll forget you and move on.<\/p>\n

Happily, a growing number of artists have found a way to bend their creative muse toward this new way of thinking. Which, finally, brings me to #392: The EP Collection<\/em>, the latest album from Marshall Crenshaw<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

As he explains in the disc’s liner notes, \u201cThis is a compilation album, containing tracks from a series of 6 vinyl EPs that I did between April 2012 and April 2015.\u201d So from one point of view \u2013 that of the CD consumer \u2013 #392<\/em> is a new album. While from another angle, it’s indeed a compilation, collection, reissue, what-have-you. Either way, it’s another serving of solid, tuneful and memorable guitar-pop from a master of the style.<\/p>\n

The approach used to bring #392<\/em> to market isn’t exactly new: Todd Rundgren<\/strong><\/a>‘s PatroNet project was \u2013 as is so often the case with Rundgren \u2013 a bit too far ahead of its time, but it did offer hardcore fans a number of hear-it-here-first exclusives, assuming they could get the files down their 28.8kbps phone-line modems. So in 2000, Todd abandoned his pledge not to release any more traditional albums, and compiled most of the PatroNet content as One Long Year<\/em>.<\/p>\n

Now, some fifteen years later, Marshall Crenshaw has been successful with a release program not at all dissimilar to Rundgren’s 1990s concept. He’s achieved the now-important goal of keeping his name (and likeness, and music) in front of his fan base via the release of a series of 10\u201d vinyl extended-play records. Those were welcomed by longtime fans (count me as one), and the new CD provides product that’s a bit more practical for the mainstream music consumer (read: one without a turntable).<\/p>\n

Not to get too inside-baseball, but because Crenshaw switched again and again between publicists over the course of releasing the six vinyl EPs \u2013 and because some publicists were, shall we say, better than others at getting the word out to reviewers \u2013 I didn’t even hear about the fifth and sixth installments, Move Now<\/em> and Grab the Next Train<\/em>. So even for someone who’s done his best to keep up with the man’s music, I’m delighting in new-to-me music on #392<\/em>.<\/p>\n

The original EPs had an intriguing format, though one not always followed slavishly: a new song, a reinvention of a classic number from Crenshaw’s catalog, and an interesting cover tune. The new songs are uniformly excellent, and suggest that the meted-out-over-time approach is a good one for Crenshaw the songwriter (though he’s not exactly known for weak tunes). \u201cI Don’t See You Laughing Now\u201d is perhaps the best among these, a slice of classic, chiming Crenshaw. \u201cMove Now\u201d is vaguely reminiscent of Gin Blossoms<\/strong>. \u201cRed Wine\u201d has a lovely Parisian feel, thanks to Rob Morsberger<\/strong>‘s accordion. \u201cDriving and Dreaming\u201d takes its time to unfold and reveal its charms, but it’s worth the wait. \u201cStranger and Stranger\u201d demonstrates yet again Crenshaw’s knack for turning out a memorable melody and lyrics that connect emotionally.<\/p>\n