Saturday, January 25, 2025
Into the Pink (1999)
I’m not sure how many Nirvana knockoff bands were still around by 1999, but this trio out of Birmingham, Alabama, is a real dilly. And no, I don’t think it’s just because Dave Grohl is the producer on hand, though surely that couldn’t hurt if that’s what you’re going for. Verbena tend to be more into the stripped-down speedy roar of 1977 UK punk than the roaming woolly mammoths of grunge anyway, which makes the persistent influence, heard all through, more a matter of seasoning. Into the Pink is Verbena’s second album, first on a major, and, after a soporific opening interlude, rocks like a little machine set to never stop. All lucky 13 songs are credited to Scott Bondy and the band, Bondy being basically the head honcho and art director on guitar and vocals. The band’s makeup had some gyrations over the years—sometimes they were a quartet. Anne Marie Griffin, playing bass here, switched off with second guitar, depending on circumstances. Her vocal riffing with Bondy is a key element that sets Verbena apart. Les Nuby is the drummer on this session. Two singles were released from the album that should-have-done-better-than-they-did. “Baby Got Shot” rolls in moody on a terse drumkit and throbbing bass and quickly gets to the point: “I really don’t care, I really don’t mind, but my baby baby baby got shot.” My sense is that the singer does care and does mind but is having a hard time, for whatever reasons, owning it. (Note, because we must, that the song comes from when Columbine was still a freak show one-off.) Besides being a terrific raveup, “Baby Got Shot” is one of the best examples on the album of Griffin’s ability to track and underline Brody’s vocal like an angry cat that just fell in the water. The other single was “Pretty Please,” whose undertowing structure reminds me of a rocked-up Ultravoxx that hits notably hard. It’s mostly all good durable stuff on this album. In case you’re wondering why the Nirvana comparison comes up so quickly, refer to “Bang Bang,” which hits too eerily like an outcast from In Utero. At the same time, as the song develops, Bondy and Griffin getting to their repetitive uh-huhhs may be their single best vocal interplay on the whole album. You take what you get. The excellent comes with the other.
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1999
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