REVIEW: Dude of Life, Under the Sound Umbrella (Phoenix Rising)
- Matthew Carlin
The Dude of Life (nee Steve Pollak) basically has one thing going for him: he's good pals with the members of Phish. Which, unless you ask a relatively small portion of the noodle-dancing public, isn't really such a good thing. Worse yet, most Trey Anastasio-worshipping denizens don't even like the Dude that much.
Just in time for the millennium, the Dude is back with a whole new set of tunes. This time he's only got three-quarters of Phish laying down tracks. And they probably just did it as a favor to an old friend, which is exactly what it sounds like. In fact, the whole album still only sort-of-makes sense if you listen to it in terms of what it really is - the musically-dabbling college buddy of a highly successful band miraculously given a second chance to commit his mildly humorous sins to acetate for an imaginary dorm-full of ears hungry for goofy songs.
The songs on Under the Sound Umbrella span three decades - none of which are this one. In some regards, Pollak is trapped in the '60s, rejoicing in his carefree good times and singing his songs for all the other dudes passing the doobage around at his party. Musically, it's all '70s pomp - big guitars with controlled distortion and overblown choruses that always contain the name of the song repeated many times. Finally, the production is straight out of the super-slick '80s. The inane Scuba Dive (chorus: "Scuba Dive!") actually contains a harmonized guitar solo that sounds just like what the mullet-headed, black jeans clad, Reebok-sneaker-wearing salesman at Guitar Center would play while demonstrating the newest model of the Rocktron 2000 Electronic Guitar God Machine.
Despite incorrigible ballads like "Puppydog Named Madness" and wanking guitars like Anastasio's overbearing lead on "Francella," the most absolutely excruciating aspect of the Dude's album is the vocals. With the obnoxious, nasal delivery of a faux-Brit rocker and literary skills that are adolescent at best, there are really no redeeming qualities about the Dude's contributions to the platter that bears his name. Which is a shame, because the Dude seems like the kind of guy you'd really want to live next door to in the dorms at a state college of your choice. His lyrics would be really funny at 3 o'clock in the morning after a night spent getting severely inebriated. But immortalized forever on CD, they just make you wince and wish he would go away:
"It's time for celebration / Are you ready for the feast? / All the sundry are invited / Including the beast / I'll meet you at the shindig / If you make it through the fog / But you better beware of the dog." (excerpt from: "Beware of the Dog" by the Dude of Life)
