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Ripping off The Beatles is a highly acceptable but often castigated practice. Do it right and listeners will take the good with the bad — music still hasn’t caught up with what the fab four were doing more than 40 years ago. But miss the mark and you’ll join the ranks of the many, from The Monkees to Jet, who tried and failed to pick up where John Lennon and Paul McCartney left off.
Jeff Beam, a young musician from Greene, Maine now splitting his time between Portland and Brooklyn, falls somewhere in between the two extremes on “Venus Flying Trapeze.”
Released at the tail end of last year, this collection of 12 mostly pun-titled tracks is a pleasant journey through one man’s musical psyche. It’s easy to get lost among the meandering instrumentals and minutes of repetitive requests to “say something,” but there’s no denying some great songwriting is being employed.
Beam plays almost every instrument himself and does a damn good job as a producer and musician. “Venus Flying Trapeze” is the distinct work of one mind, drastically shaped by his musical forefathers — it’s as if Lennon, Thom Yorke and Wayne Coyne are the other members of his band. But with all of those personalities and many more, in one room, things can get messy.
Instrumental opener “Fly Trap” serves as the album’s “15 Step,” but without Yorke’s lyrical sentimentality, it’s a funky beat with no soul. The sounds are lush and inviting, but it doesn’t quite feel like a song.
Still, the tracks which behave the way pop songs are supposed to, shine in their familiarity and comfort. “Portraits of Poor Traits” is the kind of bluesy folk piece made for a lazy summer afternoon. Sure, The Beatles are alive and well in the sweeping harmonies, but the midsection of indecipherable voices and the absence of a clarinet solo make it Beam’s own.
It’s hard to tell whether it’s the amount of instrumentals, the lyrics or Beam’s delivery, but there isn’t much in the way of memorable lines. Beam’s voice is brilliant in its scratchy honesty, though enunciation be damned. Even on the first listen, it feels as though you’ve been hearing Beam’s voice your whole life.
The end result of all this familiarity is a passive enjoyment of Beam’s work — for better or worse. However, this breathes life into moments, such as the end of “Currently, A Currency Urgency!” where Beam comes into his own. With enough Spoon influence to sound interesting, but not enough to sound unoriginal, “Currently …” engulfs listeners with frantic guitar arpeggios and whirring electronics.
The following track, “Loudspeaker Wallpaper,” features enough fuzz, noise and spaced-out vocal melodies to break the monotony as well.
The end falters a bit with “Problem of Other Minds” and “Mere Mirror,” both of which probably could have been left off the album. Still, the last two tracks — the glam-rocking “Mister Sister” and ’60s pop tune “Can’t You Feel The Curve of the Earth?” — recapitulate Beam’s strengths and weaknesses.
Forgettable lyrics — “All you see is all you know” — hold “Mister Sister” back from otherwise glammy grandeur, especially thanks to some beautifully gross guitar tone. And when Beam’s voice opens up the frolicking closer, you’re pretty sure he’s singing “All My Loving.” The tricky part is, “Can’t You Feel …” is a good song in the same way Beatles songs are good.
“Venus Flying Trapeze” is a success in its affability, but not in its originality. Still, Beam has laid the sonic groundwork for material that can add something new to the conversation. He just needs to make sure his idols don’t make it into the recording studio with him.
