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Travis: So tonight we discuss The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner by Ben Folds Five. Or is it THE Ben Folds Five? I actually don’t know. What made you single this album out for our attentions this eve?

Tyler: Well, I’m an avowed Folds fan, both Five and solo.  I actually saw the band on tour behind Reinhold Messner, but at the time—I was an oft-sheltered adolescent—didn’t “get” their sound onstage.  With time I came to appreciate not only the band’s considerable sound, but Folds’s singular lyrical and musical wit.  Ben Folds Five only released three albums the first time around, but they each have their own stamp and merit.  Reinhold Messner is the band’s darkest, saddest statement by far, and I’ve come to appreciate how complete it feels, how together the whole thing hangs, even with a handful of odd asides.

No “the,” by the way.  Just “Ben Folds Five.”

I should note, too, that I did figure this one as the Five LP that might most appeal to you.  The preceding two records, a self-titled debut and Whatever And Ever Amen, have a lot of melody and a lot of heart.  They also, though, have healthy doses of that Ben Folds humor.  Now, I like that shit—I think the guy’s a wicked-sharp social observer.  But I wasn’t sure that, say, a song referencing The Rockford Files was gonna ring your bell.

Opener at that Ben Folds Five concert: “Meet Virginia”-era Train.

Travis: I wouldn’t say a pop culture reference like that would bug me, but the two (three if we’re including solo) songs I knew of Ben Folds before this all had things lyrically about them that bugged me quite a bit. The Gen-X ironic misogyny of the “give me my money back you bitch” song didn’t age well to me. As for “Brick,” imagine you were the girl who had the abortion, and then a guy got rich singing about it and then made “Rockin the Suburbs.” That would have to be a pretty big bummer.

I think the line between “bitter nerd” and “wicked-sharp social observer” is a pretty thin one, and I think for the most part he stays on the right side of the line on this album, as far as I can tell, but like when we talked about Fountains of Wayne, Gen-X irony poisoning in the guise of character sketches doesn’t sit well with me when the world is falling apart. 

That said, I liked this album a lot more than I liked Fountains of Wayne. I feel positively about a little more than half of the songs on this one. It’s obvious this is a musically gifted group of people (perhaps maybe too musically gifted on the piano, at times?) with a good pop sense. They synthesize what seem to be a broad set of influences into something that sounds their own–I can’t say I’d mistake anything on this album, good or bad, for anyone besides Ben Folds Five.

Tyler: “Song For The Dumped” has not aged well at all.  I think you’re being a bit conceptually hard on “Brick”—to that extent you could take down any creator who made art from considerable pain involving another person.  Abortion is of course a particular situation, and Folds as a man could be lambasted for commenting on it at all.  I’m not of that mindset, though, not in this instance, as he is spare but specific in the emotional details of what he felt under those circumstances.  For that woman, yes, it may be tough to watch her former partner score a major hit with a song about their termination of a pregnancy. I don’t think we can fault that partner, though.  Not for writing—the verses of—the song about the abortion, and not for succeeding with a cheery pop single some three or four years later.

To continue my ferocious line of disagreement, I reckon our tastes will never quite align in the department of certain tunes I consider clever that anger up your blood. I think “bitter nerd” is a touch reductive, given that Folds may write songs from that perspective, but is also capable of great empathy and consideration as a musical storyteller.

I am glad to hear you got some enjoyment outta this one, all that contention aside.  Revisiting it has, on my end, been a depressing pleasure.

Travis: I’d probably have to spend a lot more time with the oeuvre to get at the empathy, and we’ll have to agree to disagree about “Brick” and probably “Rockin the Suburbs.” All that to say, I had a big mountain of preconceived notions to climb to enjoy this album. With only a couple of exceptions, I really did enjoy it. I don’t really know enough to know if there are any particular fan favorites on this one, so I’ll just say that my particular favorite is “Mess.” I also liked the at least seemingly to me musically linked trifecta at the end of the album, “Regrets,” “Jane,” and “Lullabye.” Some of the other songs I liked pieces of, or liked with reservations, and there were by my count four I’d skip listening through again (including the answering machine interlude which probably shouldn’t even count in any sort of evaluation).

Tyler: Love “Mess.”  That’s a damn fine song with one of my favorite Folds licks: “I don’t believe in God/So I can’t be saved.”

Best I can gather, the stand-out fan favorite is “Army.”  In concert, Folds will often split the audience and get the whole crowd to “ba-ba-baaa” the counteracting horn parts.

Travis: I liked “Mess” enough I think it’ll survive this exercise to become a playlist staple. It has a vibe that feels familiar without sounding like a copy of anyone else, though I got strong REM vibes, with the piano replacing the guitar jangle. It’s also just catchy and pretty.

“Army” was an “I like parts of this” song for me. The big “f-word” out of the gate makes me roll my eyes, but when the full band and horn section kicks in it’s pretty enjoyable, but then there’s like a jaunty saloon piano part that takes me right back out of it.

Tyler: Playlist presence is bold praise.

Travis: “Magic” and “Your Redneck Past” are my big passes. There’s nothing particularly wrong with “Magic,” it just doesn’t hook me and feels a little limp. “Your Redneck Past” is, to me, both lyrically and musically annoying.

He isn’t a bad singer by any means but it seemed like “Magic” might be out of his range?

Tyler: “Your Redneck Past” is not my jam either.  To my ear it’s a studio exercise gone awry.  “Magic” was written by Jessee, and I agree that it doesn’t punch as high as the album’s top moments, or at least doesn’t slot properly into the mix.

One thing I’ll give you that, like “bitch” in “Dumped,” has not worn well with time: the word “redneck.”

Travis: Having been a high-schooler in the 90s, at the risk of sounding “too woke” (which I would argue isn’t even a real thing), the cruelty of language at that time, especially in white guy humor, is pretty regrettable. I was definitely guilty of it then and it can still come out sometimes. Stuff like that really sticks out in art now.

Tyler: Oh, for sure.

Travis: Also, re: “Your Redneck Past,” people who aren’t Brian Wilson just shouldn’t try Beach Boys pastiche.

What are your thoughts on the opener, “Narcolepsy”?

Tyler: I’m a fan.  It’s bombastic, to be sure, but I dig it.  It’s compelling and it nails the shame of using sleep as a coping mechanism.  It certainly falls into line with Reinhold Messner’s multiple other songs about emotionally-fraught—I won’t say “stunted”—men.

Travis: I liked it too. It felt like a classic rock concept album opener throwback.

Tyler: We agree!  What do you think of the next track, “Don’t Change Your Plans?”

Travis: I also like “Don’t Change Your Plans,” feel like it really kicks into gear once the additional instrumentation beyond the core band comes in.

Tyler: Listening to the song earlier today, I was struck by how truly awful the narrator does his partner.  But the song’s so pretty!

Travis: The album is definitely lush with a consistent sound throughout, without the songs sounding too same-y. Just personal taste-wise I’d love it to sound a little more organic and a little less “perfect” but that’s just me liking the way things sounded in the 70s better than the way they sounded in the 90s.

Tyler: The lush nature was a real departure at the time.  Their debut and second albums were largely three-man affairs, with producer Caleb Southern at the helm.  Southern’s still there on Messner, but he certainly didn’t hold the band back from changing up the sound.

A sprightly song called “Emaline,” incidentally, was cut by the label from that debut record, because it features a guitar.  I’m actually with the label on this one—it’s a new band, roll with the gimmick.

Travis: Agreed on that count. Add a full backing band to the White Stripes and it turns into something else a lot less interesting. Like anything else Jack White has done. Heyooooooo!

Tyler: You got him good!

Travis: He’ll never find out, because they don’t have blogs in the self-fictional version of the Dust Bowl 30s he lives in now.

Anyways….Ben Folds Five, no The, The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner: an album that I deem….pretty good!

Tyler: Before we head out—you noted an affection for the album’s final three tracks.  I’m a big fan of all three, especially “Jane” and “Lullabye.”  Care to expand on those songs at all?

Travis: Sure! Like “Mess,” I thought these three sounded familiar and comfortable to me, without sounding derivative. Like “Jane” had some mid-70s Steely Dan vibes but doesn’t sound like a Steely Dan ripoff. And “Regrets” reminded me of Joe Jackson (british angry young man Elvis Costello-esque pop-rock Joe Jackson, not weird abusive father of the Jackson 5 Joe Jackson). “Lullabye” the strings really struck me, for whatever reason, it just felt like a satisfying album closer. His voice also felt “right” on these three if that makes sense.

One reservation: if I were producer Caleb Southern (call me Solomon Midwestern), I would have told them to knock it off with some of the analog synths on “Regrets.”

Tyler: Noted ‘90s alt-indie producer David Pacific Northwestern

Travis: Probably produced between 8 and 14 Guided By Voices albums.

Tyler: That few?

Travis: Only worked with them for a year or so.

Guided By Voices: another iconic 90s indie band I just never really got into and think is kinda boring.

Saw them live. They drank a lot of beer.

I will say this for Ben Folds Five: even the things by them I don’t like are not boring.

The only song we haven’t really touched on is “Hospital Song.” Kinda reminded me of the Beatles, is fine?

Tyler: Um, excuse me, “Your Most Valuable Possession?”

“Hospital Song” is one I find haunting, I hasten to add.

Travis: “Your Most Valuable Possession” should be replaced by the skit from Chronic 2001 where Eddie Griffin talks about women trapping men into child support payments.

talk about something that didn’t age well.

Tyler: Egads.  Yeah.

Worthy of reviewing: Eddie Griffin and Master P in the Griffin-bio comedy Foolish?

Travis: You know, I watched that as a youth, on HBO or Showtime or whatever when we finally got premium cable at my parents’ house. Even through the lens of nostalgia, not much to recommend there.

Tyler: All I recall is a movie-ending freeze-frame of Griffin smiling on stage, soundtracked by a bunch of female vocalists crooning “Foooolish!”

Travis: Speaking of recommendations: I assume you’d recommend the other BFF and Ben Folds solo material, based on the intro conversation. What would you say is the best of the bunch other than this one?

Tyler: Really, both of the preceding two albums are strong.  If I gotta pick, I give it to Whatever And Ever Amen, however problematic now is “Song For The Dumped” and, to Solomon Midwestern’s ears, “Brick.”  That said, though, if you want to hear this band absolutely crush it live, I’d direct old fans and intrigued rookies to The Complete Sessions At West 54th.  Remember that show?

I should make note that, more than a decade after disbanding following Messner, Ben Folds Five reunited for an LP called The Sound Of The Life Of The Mind.  It’s got a decent track or two, but it’s a missed opportunity.  Not enough noise.

Travis: I don’t know if I ever saw an episode of Sessions at West 54th. Maybe they didn’t have it on St. Louis PBS? I feel like I would have watched it if I knew about it. And that my dad would have watched the kd lang episode.

Tyler: Didn’t she do a very early MTV Unplugged? Am I remembering that wrong?

When I was a teen I lucked into an official Unplugged book shaped like the corner of an acoustic guitar.  I feel like she was in there.

Travis: She may have. I remember watching the Grammys when she swept everything with the hit song “Constant Craving.” Unplugged had some banger performances.

Probably not next up for this column: kd lang

Though maybe we’d both really love her, I have no idea really.

Tyler: I believe she did an entire album about smoking cigarettes. Both of us about ten years ago would’ve been all about that.

Now that we’ve gotten completely off-track, perhaps it’s time to close the book on this Biography.  See what I did there?

Travis: I do see. Until next time.

Tyler: Good night, good night, sweet Travis.

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