Watch Me Fall

We Say...

Review by Andrew Parks

You know, for a minute there it was starting to feel like Jay Reatard's first proper full-length since 2006's Blood Visions would never happen. After all, his songs are best suited for limited 7-inches, which explains the pair of compilations — one for In the Red, and one for his new label, Matador — he unleashed last year. Here it is, though: Watch Me Fall, the album anyone even remotely into grit-encrusted garage rock's been waiting for. And, well, it's basically a bunch of seared pop songs chased with cockney-infused choruses ("Faking It"), subtle strings ("Can't Do It Anymore"), and pitch-dark post-punk ("Nothing Now," which channels Reatard's inner Wire).

None of the above will come as a surprise to anyone who's followed Reatard's solo releases, an ever-evolving stack of swiftly recorded singles that continue to blur the line between Jay Reatard the live performer (a madman who shouts out song titles like the Ramones, and often delivers 20 blistering songs in 30 blurry minutes) and Jay Reatard the rock 'n' roll historian/natural-born songwriter. While he insists on separating the two sides in interviews, the beauty of Watch Me Fall is in how Reatard's met himself halfway. Take the first five tracks, for instance. Clear and concise, they're seemingly over before they begin, heaving hooks and harmonies at a feverish clip until "I'm Watching You" suddenly splits the LP in two. A possible hint at what's next, the organ/acoustic guitar-driven song reveals what happens when Reatard slows down long enough to survey his situation, not just smother it in self-loathing and serrated riffs. Thanks to this track, and a few other unplugged moments, recent Reatard shows have actually featured the guy on a battered acoustic. And you know what? He still sounds pissed.