4 out of 5

Label: Stockholm

Produced by: Tore Johansson

You recall the 90s, yes?  When “mainstream” offered up alternative and grunge and hip-hop that’s now – I’d even say nostalgia aside – regarded as containing several classics?  Time will tell if the generations’ popular music that followed will prove equally lasting, but I do recall a some specific “everyone go out to buy it” album instances from that time which were soon followed by “everyone dump their copies at a used store” just as quickly; this can certainly be a common result of albums based solely around catchy singles, but with the Cardigans’ First Band on the Moon, it was more that that single from Romeo and Juliet that you loved – Lovefool – wasn’t exactly the ode to your feelings for Leo that you felt they were upon hearing Nina Persson’s cooed ‘Love me’ chorus, and the accompanying album even less so.

I bring up the 90s as evidence of a time when genre-blending gave us some surprises like this.  There was absolutely an bevy of poppy fluff as well, but certain releases – like First Band – could catch a discerning listener completely off guard, which isn’t something I can say about most mainstream releases nowadays, quality of craft aside.  Katy Perry is Katy Perry.  But the Cardigans, amidst shimmery, throw-back pop, were not only much darker, lyrically, than one would ever assume from a snap judgment, but the music itself was also incredibly rich and dense, the compositions so precisely tuned to its slightly-off cuteness by players who knew just how much or little to do to achieve their sound that I still hear touches that catch me off guard.  This makes it noteworthy amongst its used-bin companions because it was all evident in Lovefool: It wasn’t just a catchy hook but a polished-to-shine algorithmic attack of head-bobbyness, subtle nuances that made it stand out from the pack indicative of how Persson – shot in soap opera hues for the video, also a wink at awareness of tonal layers – took a song seemingly about remiss romance, and sang it with flirty aplomb, hiding the undercurrents of manipulation and control in the lyrics.

It was all there, but many of us – myself included, brushing the Cardigans off for those same Romeo and Juliet associations – missed it.  But some of those many who bought the album felt it.  I’m your Cuckoo; Happy Meal II – there were plenty of examples on the album that made you swoon and smile while tugging at your subconscious that something was wrong.

Which is awesome.  It’s one if those discs I can’t claim to exactly crave to listen to, but that I’m always pleased by when I put it on.  And maybe that is nostalgia in effect, whether the hesitation or the consistent ‘oh yeah this is a really weird album’ knee-jerk response I get, but whatever, there are worse ways to re-experience the past.

That being said, the pursuance of this cheery-buy-maybe-not style can wear thin the deeper you go into the album, carrying things toe-tappingly along until about the Iron Man cover.  It’s a winky choice, for sure, and the group absolutely puts its own stamp on it, but there are additions of extra oomph here and there on the album, and the purposeful removal of those from the cover – even if you don’t know the song the ‘I Am Iron Man’ proclamation at the start is suggestive of something with some fire behind it – deflates some of the discs momentum, making the two closing tracks, Great Divide and Choke, underwhelming despite being quality songs.  The album is a short listen overall, though, just shy of 40 minutes, so any wandering attentions can quickly be swept away by keeping it on repeat to wind back around to that first single.

To answer your main question, though: I appreciate Leonardo Dicaprio now, but no, I’m not going back to try and reevaluate Romeo and Juliet or Baz Luhrmann anytime soon.