A Golden Field of Radioactive Crows
77s
by Chad Beck

It’s almost always great to hear from old friends and acquaintances. There’s often nothing more comforting than a close friend’s voice, which comes built in with all of that person’s mannerisms and quirks. A quick visit with a lifelong buddy will quickly spark memories of their unique persona and why you became friends in the first place. This whole series of events has a completely opposite effect when the childhood comrade calls only with bad tidings and unfortunate news. Fans and friends of the 77s (who go all the way back to 1984) will know exactly what I’m talking about upon hearing their first full-length in several years, A Golden Field Of Radioactive Crows.

At one point I touted the 77s as the “most under-appreciated band in rock music,” a sentiment that still rings true when discussing the majority of their discography. At their best the 77s played charming pop music fashioned in the shadows of Brian Wilson under the red-hot California sun. Their “B-sides” collection, Sticks & Stones, released in 1990, was ironically their most solid effort. The self-titled 86 record was also a masterpiece with nuggets like “Do It For Love” and “The Lust, The Flesh, The Eyes and The Pride of Life.” This was an era when the 77s’ jangling guitars and pop hooks sounded fresh and the lyrics inspired. Writer/vocalist Mike Roe’s brand of contemporary philosophizing was a triumphant blend of intelligent smarm and artsy poetry. The spiritual undertone of pop gems like “Frames without Photographs” and “God Send Quails” never threatened to be cheesy; the 77s were too genuine for that.Unfortunately, A Golden Field contains very little of what made the 77s great.

The worst of the 12 song batch is “Leavin’,” a half-baked three-chord garage-rocker that dares to annoy the listener after the first few seconds. Never has Mr. Roe been associated with such a pathetic, bland attempt at a song. It’s the kind of song even a junior-high rock act would recognize as filler. The fact that Roe (who in most regards is an extremely mature musician) included it in this set shows he’s cracking. Nothing else gets as dumb as “Leavin’,” but it doesn’t get much better, either. “Related” has a semi-interesting rhythmic lull to it, but the 77s foil the tune by refusing to bring it to climax and implementing sterile-white-boy scratching. The rest of A Golden Field follows in this same dull pattern, making the 77s sound dated and tired. As a sincere fan of this band I hope they can turn it around for another great album someday. Unfortunately, this ain’t it.