The Raincoats - Odyshape
#205
By Jim Coursey
May 25 1981
The Raincoats
Odyshape
Genre: Experimental feminist post-punk
Allen’s Rating: 1.5 out of 5
Jim’s Rating: 5 out of 5
Highlightts:
“Only Loved at Night”
“Dancing in My Head”
“Odyshape”
I first encountered this album in the mid-nineties, when I borrowed it from the San Francisco Library. I don’t know what drew me to it. Did I know they were championed by Kurt Cobain and Steve Shelley? Maybe I had just heard the name or liked the album art? Who knows.
Either way I took it home and didn’t take it out of my stereo for at least a week. I listened to it again and again until I could predict every lurch in the tempo or waver in the voice. I remember breathlessly calling a friend mid-week to describe the album, only to have him shrug and say “Oh sure, that’s a great album” as if he’d bought it when it came out. Well, I guess I was late to the game, but it was momentous to me nonetheless.
I don’t know how the album came to be, except that it was a follow-up to the Raincoats’ solid debut, a would-be Riot-Grrrl album before there was such a thing. With “Odyshape”, the band throws off the shackles of pop structure and punk austerity, writing a collection of songs that sound more like a musical stream of consciousness than a succession of verses and choruses. But don’t let that scare you… beneath the surface there’s plenty of catchy tunes, esoteric instruments, and wild ideas. There are no anthems or bangers here, but just a dish of solidly feminist punk rock best served in the waning hours of night.
That said, there’s still plenty to work past, either because people tend to listen to things that are very slick and/or very steady - I know I do. It’s certainly out of step with the music of today, at least in terms of its production. Looking back from a time where music is timed to a grid, vocals are meticulously tuned, and dynamics are reduced for maximum loudness, this album feels all over the place. The Raincoats often appear to overshoot their abilities here. Their performances are nice enough but lacking in confidence -- the singing especially -- to the degree that this sounds like it might have been a well-recorded demo for an album they never actually made.
What’s more, they lost two drummers on the way to completing this album, and recruited guests to fill in from solid art punk bands like P.I.L. and This Heat. I have heard it said that some of the album was recorded at first without a drummer, and that the drums were overdubbed after the fact. Whether or not this is true -- it’s a terrible idea unless you are playing to a metronome, which the Raincoats certainly weren’t -- the music often feels a bit uncentered and rhythmically volatile, but at the end of the day it holds together if only by a thread.
For me, though, it’s thoroughly charming and inspiring stuff. The album has as much narrative, drama and emotion as a mid-70s Freddy Mercury composition, but with none of the grandiosity. It’s hard to say whether this is by technical failing or artistic choice, but it’s quite earnest and introspective as a result. Some songs feel like stories, while others feel like collage, and in neither case because of what is printed on the lyric sheets. The emotional arc is there, all defined through tempo, arrangement and performance. Whatever the Raincoats lacked in technique, they make up for here in the way they pull the listener on a journey, a wild and lovely ride if you choose to take it.
The tracks:
"Shouting Out Loud" - We start with a steady, tom-filled drumbeat that would not have been out of place on Sonic Youth’s self-titled debut. A reggae-tinged bassline comes in, while the vocals, violin and guitar swim around harmoniously over top. After ambling along for a minute or two,we stop on a dime and the tempo kicks up. Now everything is jagged and tense, the toms rat-a-tatting, strings strumming, and bass walking all over the place. Moments later we’re in the “C” section of the song, which continues at this frantic pace and stretches for most of the song’s length. By the end you’ve probably forgotten how pleasant it all was at the start.
"Family Treet" - We’ve mellowed out again, starting quite warily with chorus-laden vocals over some lovely violin and an assorted clatter of percussion. But much like the first track, the pace quickens as they quietly agitate over women’s responsibilities to the husband and to society. It’s a gentler song, if still a rollercoaster, and the cycle repeats a few times more before ultimately petering out.
"Only Loved at Night" - This song is utterly lovely, and only partly because it’s one of the few songs on the album to stick to a fairly predictable tempo and structure throughout. Jagged guitars are offset by a drawn out, gliding plucks from the bass, until the chorus hits with swishing guitar harmonics and a chiming kalimba melody. Great moody music for late at night.
“Dancing in My Head” - We’re back to the unfixed tempos and winding structures of the first two tracks. But this song grounds itself in a chill reggae-like groove, and the most excitable sections of this song sound more flighty and whimsical than anxious. If a single track best illustrates the charm of this album’s aesthetic, this one may be it.
"Odyshape" - Then again, if you want to illustrate the lurching, brooding tension of the album, the title track may be your better bet. If the woozy “A” part doesn’t make you seasick, the song eventually hits a very direct, angular groove before taking off into a mad dash and starting it all over again. This might as well be a feminist response to Kraftwerk’s “The Model” -- the fetishization of female beauty as seen as imprisoning rather than merely shallow -- and while it’s less catchy than Kraftwerk’s hit it’s a good bit deeper and more adventurous.
"And Then It's O.K." - Another study in tempo, from seasick to galloping; solid, but overshadowed by the preceding track.
"Baby Song" - This is the other relatively conventional cut. Here, a steady kick and disco-esque guitar and a rhythmic chant of “baby baby” are offset by the inventive, slinky bass and drums. This song sounds almost sexy, if subdued, but the lyrics are more about motherhood (or Mother-ness) than a hookup.
"Red Shoes" - Ok we’ve gone from merely seasick to an ill-tuned sea shanty here. It’s a fine break from the more anxious moments in the album, but hardly a standout.
"Go Away" - Some albums end with whisper, this album ends with a storm. “Go away, go away, I feel insane” shrieks Ana da Silva over clattering drums and skittering violins. The song careens from place to place, successfully evoking a chaotic mental state and waking anyone who might be lulled by the more understated elements of this album. They’re closing with a bang, but it’s yet another bout of tunelessness right on the heels of “Red Shoes”, and to be honest I never feel like I’m missing anything if I hit stop at the end of track 7.
Closing Argument:
In spite of these last two tracks, I feel like this album merits a 5, since most days you ask me I’ll put it in my “Desert Island Discs.” To be fair, if this were ice skating and not punk rock, it would not warrant a perfect score. The technical imperfections are myriad and in spite of its closer’s intensity, it’s hard to say that “Odyshape” sticks its landing. But there’s enough invention in this imperfect, ragged sketch of a masterpiece that a couple lesser tracks seem beside the point. What’s more, it’s the roughness that charms me. This is an album like no other, unique to its time and still holding strong to my ear. Lock yourself in a room with it for a day and maybe you’ll agree.
https://open.spotify.com/album/1inTVdcCSIjJS9blv9zogk?si=14dULM1OQgaQoM63jMvL6A
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