How? It's a question elicited by any great album, but one that accompanied Sonic Youth's 2002 return to glory, Murray Street, in particular, and will likely arise in response to any remotely decent effort from the group herein. It might have dawned on some fans only after hearing Murray Street that Sonic Youth's mean age was then roughly 45, and that the group arguably hadn't produced a record of such caliber since they were in their late 20s. And while age is certainly unavoidable, as sensitive fifty-something poets constantly remind us, it shouldn't come as any great surprise that the band still pack some alternately-tuned potency in their aging physiognomies: There are manifold examples of musicians in most every genre, besides younglings rock and hip-hop, who have continued playing, if not composing, masterfully, well into their 70s.
Like the best jazz musicians, Sonic Youth have turned their love for experimental rock into a habit; perhaps more so than any other band, they've transcended the temporality of quality output in rock music. While bands like the Rolling Stones and the Grateful Dead continue to take the stage in a larkish clamber, Sonic Youth are still alive in the studio, where the process of making music is somewhat more draining than regurgitating old hits every once in a well-publicized while. With centenarianism becoming more of an improbable reality and less of a tall tale, it's no longer inconceivable that rock composers might thrive into their latter days, especially now that the relatively young genre has been given time to produce a few elder masters. In short, Sonic Youth aren't an exception; they're a pioneer example of a nascent rule.
That said, while Sonic Nurse isn't quite as strong as its predecessor, it's equally as imbued with instrumental dexterity and impressively coherent ideas. Unlike Murray Street, the album isn't so much an expansion of form as a return to it: Here, Sonic Youth harken back to the noisome atmospherics of their late-80s work, only handing it a more crystalline production treatment that smacks of more recent releases like A Thousand Leaves. Whether the implications of the line are intentional or not is difficult to say, but when, on "Paper Cup Exit", Lee Ranaldo sings, "It's later than it seems," the band seem to be keenly aware of their age and relevance. That self-awareness, both of an appreciably long canon and the four lives it has traversed, makes Sonic Nurse all the more remarkable.
Throughout their career, Sonic Youth have indulged in as much avant-garde experimentation as they have ground out formal studio albums. If anything, the lesson taught by mishaps such as the infamous NYC Ghosts & Flowers is that Sonic Youth are best at being themselves. Fortunately, that "self" is an enormously vibrant and sophisticated entity, capable of evoking a broad range of moods and tones, and continually learning from its mistakes. As atrocious as NYC Ghosts & Flowers was, they never repeated its missteps, and for that it can be conveniently forgotten. Conversely, when the group hits their stride, they know to run with it, as they do here, swimmingly riding the ample momentum generated by Murray Street.
"Pattern Recognition" opens, touching down on a well-trodden playing field of heady, arpeggiated riffage. After a brief, almost proggy intro, the song descends into a perilous odd-time build redolent of "Candle", as Kim Gordon brays "you're the one" in wontedly Daydream fashion, forgoing the bloodless beat poetry whining that often made her presence an annoyance in recent years. 16 years later, her pipes are still as seductively smoke-tinged as they were on "Kissability", and the opener marks the first of several pleasant appearances by Gordon on Nurse. "Unmade Bed", the record's only sub-four-minute endeavor, recalls the nocturnal second half of Murray Street, casting beacons of beautifully melodic guitar as it builds to a gloriously intertwined climax. As with many of the band's best songs, it takes a few listens for the riffs to sink in, but once they have, they're indelible.
Dynamically, however, not every track on Sonic Nurse is as striking as the band have proved themselves capable. Murray Street's "Rain on Tin" was a euphoric rollercoaster ride that seemed to capsulize to the band's entire career. "Stones", perhaps this album's closest parallel to that song, erupts with an insurgent guitar melody after a rocky climb, and features more than its fair share of strong riffs. Yet, while doubtless a strong number, the track isn't nearly as dramatic as career highlights like "Washing Machine" and "Expressway to Yr Skull". Additionally, "Mariah Carey and the Arthur Doyle Handcream" is a more traditional Kim Gordon screed that extends about two minutes too long in its monotonous din to be as effective as Murray Street's similar "Plastic Sun".
However, while those tracks do belabor the flow of the record slightly, their impotency is more accurately attributable to Sonic Nurse's questionable sequencing. While many of these songs exemplify the band in top form, they're sometimes inhibited by the record's somewhat scatterbrained narrative arch. "Peace Attack", in particular, suffers from mishandling. Played in isolation, the track is clever and wistful, but in its role as closing song, it feels awkwardly contrived and anticlimactic. Meanwhile, "Pattern Recognition", another one of the band's finest recent tracks, seems too bold an opening statement for this deeply cogitative collection. And unlike Murray Street, which was anchored by the towering middle track, "Karen Revisited", this issue lacks a similar axis to corral the disparate tones and give them direction.
Of course, considering these minor bones of contention, Sonic Nurse is hardly what one might call a disappointment. "The Dripping Dream" adheres to the familiar tension/release/jam formula typified by "Rain on Tin", but manages to keep fresh with a reliably brilliant guitar apex before receding into a hazy wash that recalls the deliquescent waning minutes of "The Sprawl". "I Love Golden Blue" features a formless, protracted intro that points to the band's one-time relationship with seminal avant-garde composer/no-wave icon Glenn Branca. And "Peace Attack", despite its placement, is quietly poignant in contrast with erstwhile monoliths such as "Trilogy" and "The Diamond Sea".
Even the staunchest pundits should find something to like on Sonic Nurse, while steadfast devotees are well accounted for by the record's sheer canonical breadth. Though its ultimate placement in the band's legacy is a debate waiting to happen, Sonic Nurse is certainly on a plane with some of Sonic Youth's better work. Indeed, it is later than it seems. And for a band to live up to that proclamation on its 19th album is awesome.
http://www.pitchforkmedia.com/record-re ... urse.shtml
