Two Conversations: This Isn't Going to Be Pretty

“Cause what I feel inside/ I don’t want to hide.”

—The Appleseed Cast, “A Dream for Us.”

July, 2007, we went to Disneyland.  My wife, kids and I were hanging around in California Adventure.  I turned around and there was a life size replica of Lightening McQueen.  It was pretty cool looking, to be honest.  My girls weren’t too engaged but I was engaged.  I stepped over close; looked at the headlight eyes, moving back and forth; watched the car’s body shudder as the highly realistic engine sounds revved at higher and higher rpm’s; and, in all truth, I felt that youthful rush of seeing something in real life that looks really cool in the movies.  After a moment, I realized that I didn’t see any strings or switches or gimmicky controls so I moved to the back of the car to see if I could find the machinations of the thing.  However, before I was able to see even a taillight, a Disney employee came, seriously, out of nowhere with a curt, “No, please, sir.  Please don’t go back there.”  I shrugged and let him have his little charade and walked off to ride the Maliboomer.  After listening to Two Conversations, I’m grateful to that little Disney employee for upholding that shiny little Disney gimmick.  Sometimes, it’s better not to know what’s going on behind it all.  Sometimes it’s best to hide what you feel inside.

Here is what I found when I looked behind the album Two Conversations by The Appleseed Cast:

This album is the alternative music soundtrack to every romantic film released between 1991 and 1996.

This album is the 2003 brainchild of some basement dwelling webmaster to marry slow core with “a mild strain of grunge, like Soul Asylum’s ‘Runaway Train’ and Temple of the Dog’s ‘Hunger Strike.’”

This album is the “Private!—that means you, Mom!” journal writings of some guy who lived through the 90’s and couldn’t let them go.

This album is like one of those Greatest Hits CDs you find at Target on clearance for $.99.  You’re thrilled and you buy it.  When you get out to the car and put it in the CD player, you realize, with furious embarrassment, that the songs on this particular collection aren’t recorded by the original artists.  Track number one, "Born in the U.S.A.," reminds you of when your drunk neighbor sang “Every Rose Has It’s Thorn” on his back porch after the Patriots lost the Super Bowl last February.  You throw your fists at the universe in violent, chaotic circles.  Your children laugh at you from the backseat.

I realized it’s difficult to listen to albums for the first time that were released in the past.  It’s hard to give them the credit they may deserve because they may sound like the copy-cat when they may be the original.

I can’t help but to call them the Appleseed Gang.

This is like the CD your Jr. High girlfriend gets you, thinking she’s doing you a favor, but in reality she’s so badly off base you know there’s nothing left to do but break-up with her.  So you send her a note on wide-ruled filler paper: “Liz, it’s been a blast but sorry I’m breaking up with you.  I’m going to ask Jen to go with me.  I know she’s your friend but I hope that’s okay.  P.S.  I think Rodney likes you.”

I’m sorry to say this but I couldn’t wait for this album to end.

At the conclusion of the album, there wasn’t one song, one hook, one creative turn of phrase, one lyric I remembered--except "Cause what I feel inside/ I don't want to hide."  Utterly, utterly, utterly forgettable.  Top to bottom.  Utterly forgettable.  Sorry, boys.

Grades:

Tone: I don't remember.

Voices:  I don't remember.

Music: I don't remember.

Lyrics: “Cause what I feel inside/ I don’t want to hide.”

Intangibles:  This is what this album looks like from space:

Final:  There is no “American answer” to Radiohead.  And that’s fine.