Howdy stranger: E is for East River Pipe
(Introduction provided here.)
East River Pipe’s Mel resides on the shelf between Steve Earle’s Jerusalem and The Easybeats’ Friday on My Mind.
I’ve got too many East River Pipe albums. End of story. No one needs more than two, right? And I’ve got three, plus a bunch of seven inches. So, I went into this edition of Howdy Stranger with the mind set to force myself through the mental anguish that goes hand in hand with making life’s ultimate decisions, like which F.M. Cornog album needs to go.
The abridged East River Pipe bio reads like this:
An alcoholic, twenty-something, Hoboken bum named F.M. Cornog gets the pick-me-up of a lifetime from a woman who helps him get back on his feet. She stabilizes his life, becomes his girlfriend, funds the bedroom studio and the label that releases his earliest records, and allows him to pursue his passion—music. He names his one-man band after the pipe that dumps raw sewage into the local river basin. Fifteen years later, Cornog has released five albums, a compilation and several seven inches.
The story itself is remarkable, setting quite a high standard for the music. Cornog’s first proper full-length, Poor Fricky, was released over a decade ago on Merge. It’s the quintessential East River Pipe album, no doubt. Shining Hours in a Can collects all of his earlier singles, most of which are also spectacular (especially “My Life Is Wrong” and “She’s a Real Good Time”). I own both of those albums, and I’m not parting ways with them. Which brings us back to Mel, which was released right after Poor Fricky in 1995.
Mel is Poor Fricky’s soul mate, featuring similar, soothing synthesizer and ringing, hallucinatory guitar. While it lacks the knockout blow of Fricky (“Bring on the Loser,” “Ah Dictaphone” and “Keep All Your Windows Tight Tonight”), it’s got staying power and lasts the full twelve rounds. In fact, it’s quite same-songy when compared to its predecessor, which might work against it to some degree. But, when the songs are this good, we’re really comparing different years of the same Mercedes Benz model. Poor Fricky is a four-and-a-quarter stars album, and Mel gets three-and-three-quarters.
“The Club Isn’t Open” kicks off the album with those trademark ringing guitars, swelling background synth, and a staple drum machine beat. It’s catchy in a trippy, psychedelic way and ends before it really begins. “I am a Small Mistake” pours the ringing, wailing guitars on thick, which is probably why East River Pipe was so beloved by Sarah Records and the British press. At times, Cornog can musically conjure up the silhouette of Felt, The Field Mice, and other forlorn, melancholic British peers. Cornog sings, “I am a small mistake. I will correct it. I’ve got to leave this planet soon. ...This can all disappear for us so quickly. Get used to it.” On the more chirpy “Prettiest Whore,” a warm bass line ebbs underneath subdued synths and guitar, sounding a bit like Galaxie 500 gone electronica. In fact, Cornog’s coy sense of style and lyrical edginess reminds me often of Dean Wareham. Take “Whore,” for example: “I know you’re a whore, but you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Take care of yourself. You know, people always kill the most beautiful thing.”
F.M. Cornog
Cornog is most adept at tugging on our heartstrings with skill and precision. Beyond just the selection of chords and his capability to add shading and context to them, his gentle yet restless voice sounds entirely pedestrian in a comforting way. In so many ways, East Rive Pipe is the opposite of mainstream; he’s completely down-to-earth. We don’t often think of bums as sensitive, let alone human. But, Cornog proves that at our core, we're all struggling to achieve similar things.
I listened to this album four times over the past few days, and I definitely like it enough to keep it. Yes, it makes me want to return to Poor Fricky. And yes, I do like Poor Fricky better. But, in the end, I think I’ll just have to save some room on the shelf for Mel for a while longer.
This means I’m 0-for-the first five letters in the alphabet in terms of finding something to trade in or sell. I guess that means my collection is leaner and fitter than it used to be, because I don’t think the same could be said five years ago. Then again, we’ve still got 21 letters to go. I might find something yet.
