Susie Hug
A is for Album (Bow Arrow CD0001)

It's a curious thing how the indie press has been celebrating the resurgence of "modern rock" legends of late, with by far the most ink devoted to Morrissey and The Cure, ostensibly because these guys influenced the latest crop of retro-leaning indie bands. You'd think this incipient late-80s/early-90s nostalgia would have people looking at a wider canvas of influences, but new albums by the likes of Tanya Donelly, Kristin Hersh, and Concrete Blonde barely register more than an obligatory "Oh, them" from the cool kids.

The usual whiny white male conspiracy designed to marginalize female songwriters, perhaps? Who knows. At any rate, there always was a broader spectrum of "alternative" music back in the day, and you can't count on the critics to pay attention to much beyond what's hip at the moment. And pop-leaning music sung by women is about as far away from what's cool right now as anything. Perhaps that's Avril Lavigne's fault, I'm not sure.

It's a sad thing, though, since a lot of good music seems to be written off before it is even heard. Tanya Donelly's Whiskey Tango Ghosts, for example, finds the former Belly leader in surprisingly fresh terrain, which is decidedly not the case with Morrissey or The Cure's new stuff. And then there's Susie Hug.

Never a household name (or should that be "dorm-hold name"?) even at her peak music-industry success, Hug was the voice of the Katydids, one of my favorite "pet" bands of the early 90s. These guys had none of the atmosphere of The Sundays, nor the preciousness of early Sarah McLachlan, nor the inherent coolness factor of PJ Harvey. What they did have was great pop songs, sung clear as a bell, and delivered straight to the heart. They had much more in common with The Posies, Maria McKee, and Elvis Costello than the "cool" bands of their era, and that probably has a lot to do with why their records have held up better than most of the discs that glut your local used CD shop.

Now, the Katydids never did get famous, though I was a true believer through and through. Years and years went by before I was willing to admit that there was not going to be a third album. So my focus shifted to, "Well, what about a Susie Hug solo album?" And that never came either. Once again, my musical passions were lost in the backwoods 50 miles from the main road of music-business reality.

So it is a real treat to discover, so many years after I stopped wishing for it, that Susie Hug is back. The disc could be totally mediocre and I'd still have a soft spot for it. Fortunately, though, and much to my delight, it's fucking terrific!

On A is for Album, Hug is joined by Fran Healy and the boys from Travis (another completely underrated and unjustly neglected pop band), and this pairing makes even more sense than Nick Lowe producing the Katydids' debut album. Healy's production sensibilities are a perfect fit for Hug's songwriting, which is personal but always keeps a focus on strong melodies. With a lot of years since we last heard from her, Hug has a great crop of songs stockpiled, so there's none of the meandering you get with artists who put out a record every year or two. This record is a reminder to everyone that songs still matter. Irony not required. Image not important.

The range of ideas and arrangements on the album far outstrip the Katydids' two albums, but there's a band-like vibe to the record that belies its long gestation. And there's a quiet confidence to the songs that makes no indication of Hug's long absence from the spotlight. It seems that Hug and Healy simply set out to make an unassuming album of Hug's best recent songs, and that's precisely what you hear.

Hug's songwriting is sneaky, often sounding sweet and straightforward and then suddenly hitting you with a chord change or lyric so unexpected that you sit up and pay attention immediately. She lulls you into comfy, head-bobbing pop dreaminess and then shocks you with perfect, tiny moments of naked emotion and/or musical craftiness. Just when you think no one could write a fresh-sounding pop song anymore without sounding hopelessly 60s-bound, these songs show there's still a lot to discover in the minor chord, the major lift.

I'm hard-pressed to pick a favorite tune here. "Green to Gold" has an almost "After the Gold Rush" feel, with a wistful ring of season's-end nostalgia. "August Moon" starts out with a deceptive early-90s sound straight off the Katydids' Shangri-La only to veer straight into a hypnotic minor-key turn that melts your heart instantly. "Submarine" steps down into a quiet acoustic mode, counterbalanced by the frenetic "Fable," which buzzes with the scattered anger and sadness of jealousy.

The gem of the set is "Animal Friends," a charming "Daydream Believer" kind of thing that should send Badly Drawn Boy into a paranoid rage at not having written it himself. Equally brilliant is the psychedlic-tinged "Amazed," surely the "hit single" off A is for Album, with the killerest chorus I've heard this year, and Hug singing in a raw voice that she rarely employs. It's thrilling.

Much of the album sticks to a rueful, bittersweet, almost country-pop style that evokes virtually endless buried emotional memories from every rueful, bittersweet relationship you've ever had. The closer, "Needles and Pins," matches a slow late-night acoustic guitar with a pleading lyric and a subtle edge in Hug's voice that communicates more truth than 10,000 hours of Karen O's hipster screaming ever could.

As the last note rings out each time I play this too-brief album, I find myself eager to the point of physical withdrawal for more Susie Huggin'. Though the chances are slim that this album will get the audience it deserves, I can only hope it does well enough to ensure a follow-up. And of course, I will wait ten more years for it if need be.

In a perfect world, A is for Album would sell like Norah Jones and put Susie Hug on the cover of all your favorite magazines. It's an exceedingly welcome return, not just for Hug, but for songwriting itself. A is for Acquire it Immediately.

Loud Bassoon rating scale

Review by La Fée