Caedmon calls, no one is home
I had never heard of Caedmon's Call until a friend told me about their concert last Friday at Founder's Court. Since my band could never score the hallowed Founder's Court gig, I was curious to see what level of talent I should aspire to. Conclusion: Toad the Wet Sprocket on a bad day.
Friday afternoon around 60 or 70 students joined me on the lawn on the Founder's Court. Most of us sat quietly, although one girl stood up and gyrated for a few minutes, sitting down only when she realized none of her friends would join her. I considered dancing, though -- it would have been a distraction from the insipid music.
Caedmon's Call was formed by two Rice graduates, and they cheerfully announced that their first concert ever was at Rice. While they were too polished for last Friday to have been that concert, they clearly hadn't played for a large audience before.
A friend once told me that "all bands with acoustic guitars and drums sound good live." He was partially right -- they were certainly decent. The seven members played their instruments adequately, if without inspiration. The drummers were consistent but non-creative, and the bassist blended in.
The problem was in the vocals. Michael Stipe can get away with mumbling words over jangly pop -- Derek Webb and Cliff Young aren't exactly at that point yet. During "Not The Land," I could not make out a word, except for a continuing refrain of "Break Me!" For a moment, I thought he was referring to the amplifier.
So I thought they were uninspiring -- so what? Somebody had to invite them to Rice, right? With that in mind, I thought it only fair to check out their CD, Just Don't Want Coffee . After several listens, though, I decided I liked the mumblings in the concert better than the lyrics I could finally understand.
Danielle Glenn kicks off the album with a clear performance in "Close of Autumn." Her voice is powerful but seems restrained, and the simple music behind her doesn't help. She mourns the loss of a lover and of her innocence: "My toy's gone .../You're shiny and new," a clear reference to Madonna's "Like a Virgin." Despite my love for the Material Girl, I found it hard to care.
"April Showers," Caedmon's ode to the environmental movement, means well but suffers from boring lyrics. "Rain, rain don't go away/We need you this dry and dusty day/Rain, rain don't go away/Though some may say please go away" doesn't quite inspire me to spend the night in the quad with the Environmental Club.
This album just lacks the spirit which I associate with acoustic alterna-rock. Caedmon's Call says they "just don't want coffee." But if you've got any last-minute studying to do, brew the java instead.
This item appeared in the Arts & Entertainment section of the April 26, 1996 issue.
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