Beck - Mellow Gold

Has “Loser” aged well? I honestly have no idea because I can’t hear “Loser” as a song anymore. Years ago, “Loser” entered that “Smells Like Teen Spirit”/”Hey Ya” rarefied air, the territory of massively important songs so overplayed that they become a part of the air, that they become as familiar as the contours of your mother’s face. There are people who never get tired of songs like that, who still give a quiet “fuck yeah” and turn up the volume when those songs come on the radio. I do not understand these people. When you’ve heard a song so many times that every last sonic detail is completely familiar, what more joy can you wring from it? I wish I knew. But if I think about it hard enough, I can still remember the way I felt when “Loser” first began showing up in alt-rock radio rotation, how fun and weird and decentering and beguiling it was. I remember finding out what “soy un perdedor” meant. I remember playground debates over whether the song meant anything at all. I remember hearing a radio DJ joking that calling yourself “Beck” made about as much sense as naming yourself “Stones.” (There was a time when Jeff Beck was way more famous than Beck Hansen.) I remember when a janky slide-guitar loop and a falling-apart breakbeat and a bemused string of non sequiturs sounded like the future. And I remember listening to Mellow Gold for the first time, getting through four or five songs before wondering whether why the fuck I paid money for this, whether the music store would let me return the cassette even though I’d already broken the cellophane. The ’90s were full of amazing, earth-reshaping bands who easily could’ve ended up as one-hit wonders: Radiohead, Green Day, Cypress Hill, Destiny’s Child. But Mellow Gold is a rare case: An artist who seemed determined to consign himself to one-hit-wonder status, and who still somehow failed at it.

As a piece of music, Mellow Gold does not hold up as a classic. It’s not Beck’s best album, and it’s probably not in the top five. There are some truly great songs on Mellow Gold, but there’s also a whole lot of knowingly unlistenable junkard noise. And that’s what’s fascinating about it. Because even if Mellow Gold is only a half-great album, it’s more fun to think about than any other Beck album. It’s fun to imagine the face of the first DGC executive to listen to “Mutherfuker,” or the boardroom conversations that went into picking a second single. It’s fun to imagine Beck recording the “this is the album, right here” intro to “Pay No Mind (Snoozer),” giggling at his own audacity. It’s fun to try coming up with a present-day equivalent: Lorde’s Pure Heroine, say, if it had just been “Royals,” a couple of songs that sounded a bit like “Royals,” and 10 tracks of Pharmakon-style noise.

I’m overstating things here, of course. Mellow Gold has plenty of great songs; even in the ’90s, an album couldn’t go platinum on the strength of one song alone. And for the most part, the great songs on Mellow Gold are the ones that sound something like “Loser.” For the life of me, I’ll never understand why “Beercan,” with its propulsive Madchester guitar strums and rubbery bassline and singalong hook, wasn’t huge. “Fuckin With My Head” and “Soul Suckin Jerk” have a lot of that same forward momentum, too. At the time, the legend of Beck was that all these weird pop-music juxtapositions just flowed out of him. He said that he came up with the instantly iconic “Loser” hook because he was trying to rap like Chuck D on the slack-jawed free-associative verses and failing miserably. But I think there was more agency to it than that, and I think those songs had more to do with what was happening in music at the time than Beck was letting on. In putting together those strings of meaningless words on “Loser,” Beck demonstrated a crazy-sophisticated command of the way words can sound, the pleasure that those sound-combinations can bring. For my generation, “dog food stalls with the beefcake pantyhose” was a sort of “cellar door” — a phrase that, regardless of meaning or context, had its own beauty. “Loser” is made up entirely of phrases like that, and the songs that sound like it are, too. And I can’t help but think Beck picked up tricks like that, as well as simple song-construction ideas, from the Check Your Head-era Beastie Boys. The way the guitar kicks in halfway through “Soul Suckin Jerk” is a total Beasties move, for instance, and the “Walk On Gilded Splinters” sample on “Loser” probably drove Mario Caldato nuts with envy. The breakbeats on those songs were straight-up early-’90s, too — a slightly rougher version of the drum patterns you’d hear on house-pop hits or Soup Dragons college-radio nuggets or George Michael singles.

The more perverse moments of the album have their own basic pleasures, too. I know people who still swear by “Pay No Mind,” and that song, despite all its silliness about a “giant dildo crushing the sun” and its “I sleep in slime / I just got signed” baby-Cobain provocations, has a very basic beauty. On Mutations and Sea Change and Morning Phase, Beck would isolate and perfect that beauty, turning it into something pristine and resonant, but the bones of it were there from the beginning. Similarly, on “Truckdrivin Neighbors Downstairs (Yellow Sweat),” Beck takes a break from the word-salad lyric-writing approach, showing some commendable verbal economy in presenting a weirdly empathetic vision of his white-trash human-mess acquaintances: “Acid casualty with the repossessed car / Vietnam vet playing air guitar.” (I used to try to replicate Beck’s slowed-down beyond-deep baritone in the song by singing into the bottom of a bongo drum. I badly needed a girlfriend.)

Still, the album is full of touches and ideas that seem knowingly distancing, designed to keep audiences at arm’s length, from the raspy distortion on the vocals to the near-atonal vocal melodies on some songs to the dueling kazoo and jaw harp solos on “Steal My Body Home.” The major-label system would, of course, release weirder albums than Mellow Gold during the great ’90s post-Nirvana gold rush; Mellow Gold is probably closer to Debbie Gibson than it is to the Boredoms’ Pop Tatari. But none of the experimental blurts that snuck through came from actual proven hitmakers, and none of them came from people who would go on to become major-label stalwarts, which is what Beck is now. Compared to the rest of his big-label output, Mellow Gold is a total damaged aberration. This wasn’t a case where Beck’s ideas were so forward-looking that it took audiences years to catch up. The album is still a relatively rough listen now, and it’s obviously intended to be one. The Beck who made Mellow Gold obviously had no real interest in changing the mainstream from within or even in finding a cult audience. Instead, it’s a thrown gauntlet of an album: “Oh, so you like ’Loser,’ huh? Well, I’m going to spend the two minutes of ’Mutherfuker’ screaming at you like a deranged goblin; we’ll see how much you like me then.”

A little more than a year after Mellow Gold came out, I saw Beck hold down an early-afternoon slot on the Lollapalooza ’95 mainstage, playing in between the Jesus Lizard and Elastica. I don’t remember much about his set — just that he danced like a spazz and that he carried himself like way less of a star than David Yow or Justine Frischmann, even though he would of course turn out to be a way bigger deal than either. In a way, it’s impressive that Beck was even booked on the tour that long after “Loser” had faded from heavy rotation. Lollapalooza wasn’t exactly a welcome environment for one-hit wonders, and Beck’s spot on the bill probably had as much to do with the two cred-bolstering indie albums that he also put out in 1994 as it did with “Loser.” And in retrospect, I’m not even sure he played “Loser” that day. This was, after all, a time when it was cool for bands to leave their biggest song out of their set lists. (Pavement, playing later that day, pissed me off to no end by opting not to play “Cut Your Hair.”) The next time I saw Beck live was two years later, touring behind Odelay and headlining a massive radio-station festival inside a football stadium. He’d reinvented himself completely by then — not sanding off his rough edges, exactly, but transforming his ideas and influences and sensibilities into a massively entertaining crowd-pleasing pseudo-James Brown routine. The same thing happened on record; Odelay took all the ideas of Mellow Gold and made them cut deeper and spread wider. Mellow Gold, then, is maybe better understood as the first chapter in a book than it is as a story unto itself.

It’s tricky to figure out the legacy of Mellow Gold, which turns 20 tomorrow, or even the legacy of an artist as mercurial as Beck. There was one moment where he was certainly an influential figure: The mid-to-late ’90s, when hit-hungry veterans like the Butthole Surfers and nobodies like the Primitive Radio Gods hit alt-rock-radio paydirt by clumsily aping Beck’s whole absurdist-half-rapping/dusty-breakbeats style. The fake-Beck hits of that era are obviously cynical and shallow, but some of them are also great — I will rep for “Standing Outside A Broken Phone Booth With Money In My Hand” until death — and I guess we have Beck to thank, in part, for those. (Even “MMMBop” might be a post-Beck single, which means Beck had something to do with unwittingly ushering in the boy-band era, which is weird.) Beyond that, though, it’s hard to find traces of Beck in the music that’s come after. Maybe Mutations helped make the major-label waters a little warmer for an Elliott Smith. Maybe rock critics like me had an easier time embracing Timbaland because Midnite Vultures helped make R&B seem nerd-acceptable. Maybe Animal Collective picked up a few tricks for their distant-polyglot live show. But maybe it’s better to think of Beck as a singular figure who’s spent the past two decades dancing gracefully across the musical landscape. And if Mellow Gold was the moment that dance began, maybe that’s legacy enough.

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Comments (53)
  1. All my friends who are Beck fans love Mellow Gold, and would maybe even call it his best album. But then, they’re more into his weirdo side than his pretty folk side. Sea Change is not a favorite with them (although, it seems everyone loves Mutations).

    • I would call myself a Beck fan whose favourite album is Sea Change.

      • When did you get into Beck? When Sea Change came out in 2002, it was a bit of a letdown for my 20-year-old group of friends. I did like it more than them though.

        • I was around for “Loser” and became a full-time fan with Mellow Gold and Odelay. I have basically no affinity for Sea Change, which I always felt was beautiful, but a bit empty and lacking dynamism.

  2. you lousy puke, why don’t you call your mommy

  3. It has DEFINITELY aged well.

  4. I’m not sure if “Loser” has aged well or not but I do recall bringing it up in a conversation with a friend on what song best encapsulates the 90′s.

  5. holy f*ck I’m old…. it seems like only yesterday I had my mom buy me a ‘loser.’ t-shirt from the local Kohls. Early Beck has held up incredibly well, his lo-fi acoustic and electronic experimentations literally laid the ground for the 1 million acts working today.

  6. jesus it’s not like it’s pablo honey. mellow gold is a really good album. and yeah, the template for everything beck is starts here. odelay isn’t the bends, where he started everything by turning his back on loser or mellow gold. it’s a progression that was pretty natural.

    and BOOM there’s this:

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R6sdDp5Vgjk

  7. Buddyhead’s review of Morning Phase said that “this time it sounds like Sea Change got strung out on heroin and forgot what it was sad about but is still sad anyway.”

    First review to literally make me laugh out loud in a long time

  8. “MMMBop” might be a post beck single¿¿¿¿

    • Well it was produced by the Dust Brothers, though I’m not sure if that makes it post-Beck or more post-Paul’s Boutique.

    • Produced by the Dust Brothers in the immediate aftermath of Odelay, busy breakbeat shuffle, DJ scratching deep in the mix. It’s not a blatant rip like “Pepper” or whatever, but the influence is definitely there. Also all three Hanson brothers absolutely had Beck-esque haircuts.

      • Rip off or not, “Pepper” is great

        • Pepper is unstoppable on the radio. I DON’T MIND THE SUN SOMETIMES. The song has radio legs- it is one of those relics that has survived when everything else when extinct.

          But more on topic, Beercan- so so so good.

      • Ahh, alright. Listening to it again I can definitely see it, but I wasn’t aware of its context etc. since I was a little kid back then so I just saw it as a novelty throwaway song rather than, y’know, something culturally significant (think “Call Me Maybe), but I get it now. Thanks for actually taking the time to explain!

    • Yes. Beck Hanson.

  9. I’m the kind of person who still thinks this is the second best Beck album (after Odelay, naturally). I don’t know what this says about me –– maybe I just can’t let the ’90s go. But I really like the weird, dour folky stuff on this album: “Pay No Mind” and “Nightmare Hippy Girl,” especially. To my ears it’s one of those albums that even if each individual song isn’t great, it just has a good vibe. An underrated and hard to pin down quality, that.

    Also, I think it’s due time for a popular resurrection of the great “Standing Outside a Phone Booth With Money in My Hand.” I remember my older brother buying that album and us listening to it in its entirety only once. Fantastic song, though.

  10. Is there a Beck list of worst to best albums?

    Opossum Questions.

  11. Popmatters did one earlier this week that I completely disagree with.
    http://www.popmatters.com/post/179469-a-strange-invitation-ranking-the-beck-albums/

  12. I want a comprehensive list of “post-Beck singles”, besides the ones listed here. “Better Days” by Citizen King has to be one of the more blatant ones, right?

    • This is an awesome idea, but there are a lot of blurry edges there. Like is the Beta Band’s “Dry the Rain” a post-Beck single? Or “Novocaine For The Soul”?

    • “Better Days” struck me as more Post-Sugar Ray.

    • Let’s not forget Bran Van 3000′s “Drinking in LA,” which is indeed a thing that exists and I remember thinking was pretty cool at the time. Again, AT THE TIME.

      Also, Pavement’s “Stereo” is most definitely a post-Beck song, as Malkmus himself has admitted.

      • That first Bran Van 3000 LP holds up – it hops genres all over the place and pulls it off without feeling totally dilettante-ish.

        The Eels and Beta Band both seem very post-Beck to me, also that entire first Gorillaz LP. Actual most of their discography. Some other post-Beck songs that come to mind are Soul Coughing’s Blue-Eyed Devil and Cornershop’s Brimful of Asha.

        • Never listened to the album –– so maybe I shouldn’t have written it off like that. But speaking of good albums, that Cornershop album with “Brimful of Asha” is still pretty solid. Or has its moments, at least.

      • I was waiting for someone to bring up Bran Van 3000. “Drinking In LA” still crushes.

    • Cage the Elephant’s “Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked” is “Loser” sent through an Everlast filter.

  13. Black Hole’s a pretty great song.

  14. I was 13 when I bought this album, and I based my purchase on “Loser.” The video of course is what sold the song though. Bold decision, but totally worth it. As a kid, Beck was was this hilarious musician that would eclectic a chuckle. I remember laughing at all the songs as they played. Songs like “Pay No Mind” “Beercan” “Soul Sucking Jerk” “Nightmare Hippy GIrl.” and the intro to “Truckdrivin’ Neighbors Downstairs (Yellow Sweat).” I didn’t know WTF I was listening to, but I enjoyed every aspect of this album for comical purposes. Listening to it now, I still smirk at the “giant dildo” part or the complete randomness of “Soul Sucking Jerk.” Its no masterpiece, but its fun to listen to.

  15. Call me crazy, but I think Mellow Gold is definitely his best, most interesting album. Many of the others (Guero, especially) are pale imitations of what does here. Sure he got more refined, but that took away at lot of what made me like him here.

  16. Turning point in his career for sure. He had some options but caved under pressure from record executives and put out other stuff instead. Sucks, but at least some great albums happened up to this point.

  17. I remember seeing the album cover some 20 years ago and thinking, what kind of metal album is this? Oh, 12 year old me……

  18. “Loser” holds up excellently. Yeah it got played a lot like a damn lot of hits did and, ya know, still do, but I still like it. And I’ve found that enough time away from stuff that got played out for you does often fix the problem – I can once again thoroughly enjoy Dark Side of the Moon after years of just not wanting to hear it, for example. “Loser” is still great to hear from time to time and equally great to slur along to.

    And Mellow Gold is great! I didn’t know what to make of it when I first got it in high school (having heard Odelay & Mutations already didn’t exactly help my understanding, either), but I definitely have grown to dig it. I love what a weird, dark, shambling mess it is, and think it holds together quite well as such. “Loser”, “Pay No Mind”, “Fuckin With My Head”, “Soul Sucking Jerk”, “Nitemare Hippy Girl” and “Black Hole” are all favorites, and I’m going to go home today and listen to the whole thing so I can remember the ones I’m a bit fuzzy on.

    He really fell off for me after Midnight Vultures (which I LOVE) though. I went into Sea Change ready to love it, having liked Mutations and the sad stuff on his other albums, and even the Bridge School version of “It’s All In Your Mind” (or whatever compilation I had the live one on), but just felt like it was flat and over-produced, and he hasn’t really hit the nail on the head for me ever since dominating the 90s. The Record Club version of the Skip Spence album was solid though.

  19. And oh, right, it’s also where I took my internet call name from.

  20. Get crazy with the Cheez Whiz.

  21. I’d like to get a sense of what people currently age 20 and under think of “Loser.” Because, you’re right, for our generation, there’s almost no disconnecting it from its ‘cultural moment.’ It is 90s Zeitgeist As Looped Slide Guitar and Breakbeat.

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