“Timeless” is an overused descriptor that’s almost never as apt as it would like to be.
When people say something is timeless, they’re often trying to say that it reminds them of a particularly pleasant time in their history. Calling a work of art “timeless” is just an easy way to congratulate it for being nostalgic in a personally satisfying way. In this sense, it goes hand in hand with vagueness — pieces that don’t submit to period conventions become “timeless” simply by refusing to acknowledge time.
Enter Teenage Fanclub’s new record “Here.” “Here” is the Scottish alternative band’s 11th studio album and their first since the 2010 record “Shadows.”
The group occupies an interesting space in the world of alternative rock. They’ve been around for over two decades, have been fairly prolific throughout that period and have produced at least one record (the raucous “Bandwagonesque” of 1991) that many would consider a classic.
On the other hand, Teenage Fanclub isn’t remotely famous, doesn’t court any sort of press frenzy with their album releases and sticks to an unorthodox songwriting process that allows each band member to take lead vocals on the songs they contribute to a record.
This duality between the rush of success and comfort of invisibility perfectly sums up “Here,” a record that is, in a word, timeless.
Now, “Here” isn’t timeless because it exists outside of period-specific musical conventions — it’s pretty squarely in the camp of fuzzy, melodic ‘90s radio rock that gave birth to Teenage Fanclub in the first place. It is timeless because it doesn’t consciously resurrect ‘90s radio rock in the name of revivalism. There’s no sense of occasion or gimmick driving the action forward.
It exists not to recall a bygone era, but to quietly examine universal themes by utilizing the set of skills that this band has sharpened over 25 years of collaboration.
Opener “I’m In Love” fulfills the modest ambitions set by its title in ways that only a band of this age could. A fuzzy, propulsive guitar riff frames lines like, “You don’t know what you mean to me / Girl, I owe you my life,” and the whole thing sounds so blissed-out that we don’t have time to roll our eyes.
With soggier instrumentation or a less airtight melody, the song would sink under the embarrassing directness of its lyrics. Instead, it absolutely floats — it sounds like the kind of infatuation you can only understand after you’ve been through decades of heartbreak: measured, pragmatic, but no less rapturous for it.
This sense of maturity permeates “Here.” Gone are the theatrics of earlier releases or the gaudy poeticism of the Fanclub’s more self-serving peers. What’s left is a set of sturdy, earnest songs which resonate thanks to their emotional directness and lack of pretension.
That’s not a coded way to say that “Here” is boring. Almost every song is anchored by an unusual structural or instrumental flourish that expands its sonic palette and keeps us from losing interest. A bed of horns appears halfway through “The First Sight,” knocking the song off balance and adorning it with a new layer of euphoria. “It’s a Sign” features Beach Boys-style backing vocals that should make the song go down smoothly, but are just off-tempo enough to become intriguing and unsettling.
The album ends with a song called “Connected to Life,” which urges the listener to “disappear into shadows / into night.” On a different album, this would read as an ominous plea to escape an unforgiving world. In the hands of Teenage Fanclub, it sounds oddly hopeful — a reassurance that it’s okay to blend into the background sometimes.
If there’s such a thing as timelessness, that’s the way to achieve it: giving up traditional wisdom of the spotlight for an unsexy, universal truth.
