Loose Fur Born Again in the USA

[Drag City; 2006]

Rating: 3.5/5

Styles: indie rock, experimental rock
Others: Wilco, Jim O’Rourke


Our favorite misanthrope, otolaryngology case study, and heavy metal drummer have returned to form Captain Planet — or in this case, Loose Fur. It's been three long years, and what do the boys have to show for it? One hell of a new album. From the very first note, there are large differences between Born Again in the USA and the band's triumphant debut. Where Loose Fur relied heavily on Jim O'Rourke's signature guitar prowess and Glenn Kotche's rhythmic drumming for their first foray, Born Again in the USA utilizes the skills of each member equally. Tweedy brings the heat with some of the best observational lyrics of his life, O'Rourke taps into his Sonic Youth stay to further prop the band's slow evolution from experimentalists to prog rockers, and Kotche is able to spread his wings and bash away at the skins. And did I mention that Born Again in the USA could even be mistaken for a *gulp* concept album!?

The title is indeed a riff on Bruce Springsteen's landmark album that took an introspective look into '80s working class U.S.A. That same aesthetic runs true throughout Loose Fur's homage, though the disc is full of conversations and observations of religion's place in American society. This is a theme not unusual to men who wrote, played, and produced the questioning gems "Jesus, etc." and "Theologians." Just look at the tracklisting and you'll see Loose Fur isn't shying away from getting under the skin of those zealots who choose to hide behind two stone tablets and a black faux leather book; 10 tracks mimicking the 10 Commandments, with titles such as "Thou Shalt Wilt," "Apostolic," and "An Ecumenical Matter," to further rub salt into the wounds.

But it's the actual content of each track that makes Born Again in the USA such an interesting listen. The album's ruckus opener "Hey Chicken" seems innocent enough — big riffage and pounding drums framing out a rock-pop extravaganza — but the lyrics are the barrel of a shotgun pointed straight at Evangelists (and moreso Televangelists) everywhere. The chorus' chant of "You want me broken/ You want me dead/ I'm living rent-free/ In the back of your head" is an open-ended statement that could be taken many ways, but let's play the role of a stalwart Jerry Falwell or Fred Phelps and think "literally." Tweedy is firing the first salvo towards evangelists abusing Jesus and his death for monetary gain. Pat Robertson or Benny Hinn wouldn't be housed in 20-room mansions and driving 10 different Rolls Royces if it weren't for their exploitations of Christ's death. Loose Fur follows up the sentiment with "The Ruling Class," a satirical look into Jesus' return into modern day America. In this case, Jesus has returned as a crack-smoking fat cat (and maybe it's no coincidence that the melody sounds like a sped up version of "Handshake Drugs"). I'm sure there's plenty to get up in arms about, but the entire song is tongue-firmly-in-cheek. Some would have us believe Jesus is some rich old conservative, but Tweedy is willing to prove otherwise with a humor often missing from Wilco's catalogue.

Jeff Tweedy isn't the only one whose lyrical stance (someone will get that) on Christianity is heard from the mountaintops. O'Rourke is just as capable as telling a story, and none is as funny and sad as "Stupid as the Sun." Jesus takes the first person narrative as he pleads to be let down from the cross before his eventual crucifixion. Jesus' idle threats of what his father will do ("He'll give you something to write about") if he's not released fall on deaf ears. His next try is admitting his faults: "Even my mother's given up on me/ I'm as stupid as the sun." His last ditch attempt is to resign his post of saving men, but no one's buying what Jesus is selling. His fate is sealed. "Thou Shalt Wilt" is an entertaining countdown of the Ten Commandments and their hold on some men and women. Beneath the breezy melody lurks a debate between zealots-turned-seedy lawmakers who want to make sure they can bend and mold each commandment's meaning to fit their lives. Morals are forgotten in lieu of forging wriggle room in case someone takes a misstep. It's easy to manipulate words to fit any given situation, and O'Rourke is right there to point out as much.

It would have been easier to write a review about the musical changes between Loose Fur and Born Again in the USA and how it mirrors the changes between Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and A Ghost is Born, or even Insignificance and Murray Street/Nurse, but then the heart and soul of Born Again in the USA would be neglected. This album isn't a shot at religion as a whole, just those who choose to manipulate Christianity and its morals into excuses for the darker side of politics and law. O'Rourke, Tweedy, and Kotche are questioning those who use religion to control, who use it to scare, who use it to do their bidding. Lyrically, Loose Fur take an unpopular stance. Musically, the album is a definite barnburner. If you find the messages too much to stomach, the melodies and riffage will comfort you. There's plenty of air guitar to be played courtesy of Born Again in the USA, and hopefully it'll make you think while you're blazing through the freak-out of "Wreckroom."

The title is indeed a riff on Bruce Springsteen's landmark album that took an introspective look into '80s working class U.S.A. That same aesthetic runs true throughout Loose Fur's homage, though the disc is full of conversations and observations of religion's place in American society. This is a theme not unusual to men who wrote, played, and produced the questioning gems "Jesus, etc." and "Theologians." Just look at the tracklisting and you'll see Loose Fur isn't shying away from getting under the skin of those zealots who choose to hide behind two stone tablets and a black faux leather book; 10 tracks mimicking the 10 Commandments, with titles such as "Thou Shalt Wilt," "Apostolic," and "An Ecumenical Matter," to further rub salt into the wounds.
But it's the actual content of each track that makes Born Again in the USA such an interesting listen. The album's ruckus opener "Hey Chicken" seems innocent enough - big riffage and pounding drums framing out a rock-pop extravaganza - but the lyrics are the barrel of a shotgun pointed straight at Evangelists (and moreso Televangelists) everywhere. The chorus' chant of "You want me broken/ You want me dead/ I'm living rent-free/ In the back of your head" is an open-ended statement that could be taken many ways, but let's play the role of a stalwart Jerry Falwell or Fred Phelps and think "literally." Tweedy is firing the first salvo towards evangelists abusing Jesus and his death for monetary gain. Pat Robertson or Benny Hinn wouldn't be housed in 20-room mansions and driving 10 different Rolls Royces if it weren't for their exploitations of Christ's death. Loose Fur follows up the sentiment with "The Ruling Class," a satirical look into Jesus' return into modern day America.
In this case, Jesus has returned as a crack-smoking fat cat (and maybe it's no coincidence that the melody sounds like a sped up version of "Handshake Drugs"). I'm sure there's plenty to get up in arms about, but the entire song is tongue-firmly-in-cheek. Some would have us believe Jesus is some rich old conservative, but Tweedy is willing to prove otherwise with a humor often missing from Wilco's catalogue.
Jeff Tweedy isn't the only one whose lyrical stance (someone will get that) on Christianity is heard from the mountaintops. O'Rourke is just as capable as telling a story, and none is as funny and sad as "Stupid as the Sun." Jesus takes the first person narrative as he pleads to be let down from the cross before his eventual crucifixion. Jesus' idle threats of what his father will do ("He'll give you something to write about") if he's not released fall on deaf ears. His next try is admitting his faults: "Even my mother's given up on me/ I'm as stupid as the sun." His last ditch attempt is to resign his post of saving men, but no one's buying what Jesus is selling. His fate is sealed. "Thou Shalt Wilt" is an entertaining countdown of the Ten Commandments and their hold on some men and women. Beneath the breezy melody lurks a debate between zealots-turned-seedy lawmakers who want to make sure they can bend and mold each commandment's meaning to fit their lives. Morals are
forgotten in lieu of forging wriggle room in case someone takes a misstep. It's easy to manipulate words to fit any given situation, and O'Rourke is right there to point out as much.
It would have been easier to write a review about the musical changes between Loose Fur and Born Again in the USA and how it mirrors the changes between Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and A Ghost is Born, or even Insignificance and Murray Street/Nurse, but then the heart and soul of Born Again in the USA would be neglected. This album isn't a shot at religion as a whole, just those who choose to manipulate Christianity and its morals into excuses for the darker side of politics and law. O'Rourke, Tweedy, and Kotche are questioning those who use religion to control, who use it to scare, who use it to do their bidding. Lyrically, Loose Fur take an unpopular stance. Musically, the album is a definite barnburner. If you find the messages too much to stomach, the melodies and riffage will comfort you. There's plenty of air guitar to be played courtesy of Born Again in the USA, and hopefully it'll make you think while you're blazing through the freak-out of "Wreckroom."

1. Hey Chicken
2. The Ruling Class
3. Answers to Your Questions
4. Apostolic
5. Stupid as the Sun
6. Pretty Sparks
7. An Ecumenical Matter
8. Thou Shalt Wilt
9. Wreckroom
10. Wanted

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