NIKKI SUDDEN The Truth Doesn't Matter CD final album SWELL MAPS JACOBITES

Description: Wonderful 15 song full length from Nikki Sudden. This 2006 release was recorded in the months that preceded his passing, but it is somehow one of his strongest albums (I know people who consider it his best). The music dips into aspects of what made Nikki so special throughout the years - a rolling Jangle Town like tempo, gorgeous ballads, brash rock a la Jacobites (I'm thinking Bethlehem Castle) or some of the more melodic / less experimental Swell Maps. What's cool is that it also goes in new directions, with elements of glam (T Rex is name checked) and a song that evokes a Phil Spector style sparkle. I suppose one sign that Nikki might have been keeping one foot forward and looking over his shoulder are the personal lyrics (one song specifically references forming Swell Maps with his brother). You're missed, Nikki. Pop Matters and Pitchfork reviews are below. Pop Matters review In the most affecting song on Nikki Sudden’s final album, he reminisces about his youth, a time spent riding bikes, reading, and most importantly, “listening to T.Rex each and every day / Mott the Hoople, David Bowie, Gary Glitter and Slade.” Though Sudden died unexpectedly in March at the age of 49, The Truth Doesn’t Matter feels like he somehow knew it was his last hurrah. The song “Green Shield Stamps” is the longest on the album, and feels like an extended thank you letter from Sudden to his friends, fans, and idols. In addition to specific shout-outs to childhood friends, Sudden remembers his influential early 1980s post-punk band Swell Maps (founded with his brother Epic): “Dave, Epic and I got together a band or two / Recorded in our bedrooms / What else were we gonna do?” Though best known as the lead singer of Swell Maps, a band whose influence can be heard in the sounds of Sonic Youth and Pavement, Sudden had a long and ecclectic solo career beginning in the early 1980s. His most recent album was 2004’s Treasure Island, which he was still supporting on tour the day he died. At the time of his death, Sudden was working on The Truth Doesn’t Matter, as well as penning his autobiography. It’s not hard to hear the influence of this on the album, which is full of uncovered memories. Using the same rough-around-the-edges, Faces-inspired sound he always had, Sudden sings these bluesy numbers with wit and fondness. The openers “Seven Miles” and “Don’t Break My Soul” are a little over-the-top with their soul-style backing vocals and druggy lyrics, but Sudden, always the poet, is winking at his audience: “We rode out together on a Saturday night / I got lost with a girl with one eye.” The Truth Doesn’t Matter is at all times raucous and gritty, pogo-ing between 1970s rave-ups (the infectious “Draggin’ Me Down”) and jagged slow-dance songs (“The Ballad of John and Marianne”). Though Sudden’s influences are obvious and even praised in his lyrics, he himself holds that special mystery spirit of rock ’n roll that many young bands today crave. His lyrics and music seem to come effortlessly, whether they are silly, sentimental, or serious. Sudden’s songs convey the wisdom of a middle-aged man and the enthusiasm of a teenager who just picked up his first guitar. “Black Tar” is a dark rocker about the evils of addiction, while the bravado of “Empire Blues”, and the lovelorn alt-country tone of “Nothing Left”, bring out a simpler, youthful passion. The important thing is, Sudden never hesitates to rock out. As a final album, The Truth Doesn’t Matter is the summary of a great career. It paints Sudden not as a has-been, but a relevant musician who had hit his stride, reaching a point of confidence and comfort with his work. The album is a heartfelt joyride, through one man’s lifelong relationship with rock music. Sudden’s music stands up against that of his influences, and continues to have the effect on bands today that David Bowie and T.Rex had on him. Even in the nostalgic “Green Shield Stamps”, Sudden remains modest. He sings, “I’ll just raise a glass to all the friends of my youth / You may not remember me but I’m here thinking of you.” Nikki Sudden will surely be remembered, and The Truth Doesn’t Matter is the sound of a man claiming his rightful place in the canon of rock ’n roll. Pitchfork review Completed shortly before his death in March of this year, The Truth Doesn't Matter features some of the most personal and intimate songwriting of the former Swell Maps' frontman's long career. Sadly, the truth does matter very much in this case, because the truth is that Nikki died suddenly after completing this album last March, turning the mere act of listening to The Truth Doesn't Matter into an autopsy, a chance to pick its lines apart for hints and grave prophecies of what was to come. That the actual cause of death remains a mystery only encourages this speculative impulse; when Sudden sings "Oh, black tar/ Burns all my money away/ It's not worth the stain on my name to relieve the pain," chances are he's not taking about road construction. But while The Truth Doesn't Matter features some of the most confessional and openly sentimental songwriting of the former Swell Maps frontman's long, labyrinthine solo career-- making it a natural companion piece to the autobiography he was writing concurrently-- the robust performances and elaborate arrangements here do not sound like the work of someone who was ready to check out. The stark album packaging emphasizes this point. It has no reference to Sudden's passing, no teary-eyed liner-note remembrances-- just a series of grainy, black-and-white photos of Sudden in his elder bohemian-statesman element (Marc Bolan top hat and all) playing with the boys in the band. But if these images reinforce Sudden's lifelong allegiance to a shabby-chic form of rock and roll that fell out of public favor sometime after 1977, The Truth Doesn't Matter's magnificent opening track, "Seven Miles High", is surprisingly less CBGB than Studio 54. A winsome tale of love-at-first-sight on "the discotheque floor," embellished by a pulsing hi-hat groove, a bittersweet synth symphony, and a backing chorus of female vocals, it's a consummate portrait of a restless artist who, even in his fourth decade of recording, was still looking for new ways to build his proverbial car. If no other song on The Truth Doesn't Matter braves as radical a departure-- most of the material here is typically beholden to Sudden's holy trinity of Dylan, the Stones and the Dolls-- the Spectorized swoon of "The Ballad of Johnny and Marianne" and somber, harmonica-hued piano instrumental "All This Buttoning and Unbuttoning" achieve the same majestic melancholy. But even if it comes just five tracks in on a somewhat overlong 15-song album, the six-minute "Green Shield Stamps" is The Truth's undeniable centerpiece, an autobiographical paean in the vein of Neil Young's "Helpless" and Van Morrison's "Cypress Avenue" that would surely become Sudden's signature song where he still alive to sing it. Over an elegiac, Hammond-soul stroll, Sudden summons a roll call of friends, family, and inspirations-- his mom, his deceased brother Epic Soundtracks, long-time Jacobites collaborator Dave Kusworth and T. Rex's "Jeepster", among them-- to "Raise a glass ... for those teenage years you can never get back." It's a song seemingly designed to invite posthumous interpretation, but Sudden doesn't sing it like he's saying goodbye, but rather taking stock of his life lessons as a means of carrying on. However, if we are to cull an epitaph from this album, let it be the song's final lines: "Dave, Epic and I got together a band or two/ Recorded in our bedroom/ What else were we gonna do?" A most fitting testament to the collision of boredom and bedlam that initially ignited Sudden's 30-year run, and that will continue to inspire future rock and roll renegades long after he's gone.

Price: 7.99 USD

Location: Minneapolis, Minnesota

End Time: 2024-12-28T05:59:34.000Z

Shipping Cost: 5.25 USD