John Moe: Ten Collapse Albums That Will Brighten -- Or Possibly Ruin -- Your Day
by John Moe
October 05, 2016
Bands can create wonderful music for us to listen to but can also be excellent sources of drama. Band members are co-workers, after all, in a very small department within a business, and it's a business where moodiness and indulgence and public adulation/animosity are all part of a day at the office. So they fight. And while there are plenty of acts who just keep rolling along through the decades, others really have no choice but to break up.
When they do break up, several bands have written — either intentionally or not — a sort of farewell note in the form of their final album. These are Collapse Albums, and they can be a fascinating mix of music and psychology. Here are 10 Collapse Albums, recorded in the bands' dwindling moments, that pack a punch given their bittersweet circumstances.
Abbey Road, The Beatles
The Collapse Album that all others aspire to. Let It Be was released after Abbey Road, but Abbey Road was the last recording work The Beatles created as a band. There were deep divisions over artistic direction as John Lennon favored a more experimental approach while Paul McCartney wanted to go with a more traditional rock-band sound. All of that just served to exacerbate already-boiling tensions, and soon the band was no more. It's not a perfect record (looking at you, "Octopus's Garden") but The Beatles coming apart at the seams are still The Beatles.
All Shook Down, The Replacements
It's a very different band here than in previous efforts. A lot of studio musicians in place of regular members, pensive lyrics sung gently as opposed to defiant ones hollered, and a lot of reflection where abandon once lived. There are still catchy melodies, though, because come on. It's been said that this is more the first Paul Westerberg solo album than the last Replacements album, but it sounds more like a bittersweet final chapter than something new.
Anodyne, Uncle Tupelo
In a just and fair universe, there would have been many more Uncle Tupelo albums for us to enjoy over many years. But we don't live in that universe, we live in this one. And in this one, Jay Farrar and Jeff Tweedy really can't stand each other. Live shows around this time in the band's short history frequently degenerated into verbal and, in time, physical altercations. Reportedly, each song on Anodyne was recorded in one take. It's a brilliant album that makes one wish all ruined friendships could result in something like this.
Collapse Into Now, R.E.M.
Anyone who turns up a nose at anything R.E.M. after Fables of the Reconstruction can be understood and forgiven, but there is a great deal to admire in the energy and innovation in this final effort, which conveniently has the word "collapse" built right into the title — and, I guess, "now" is now, and they collapsed. Lyrically, there are many references to the impending breakup, which followed the album's 2011 release.
Idlewild, OutKast
I always get a little excited when someone releases an album and people don't seem to really get it. It's even better when I don't really get it either, but I know there's something in there somewhere. OutKast's final(?) album isn't more of a companion piece to their film of the same name than a straight-up soundtrack. It's dense, very very long, and shifts styles and approaches all the dang time. The separation and vague tension between Andre and Big Boi is still there, but that never stopped them from making some great music.
In Utero, Nirvana
I'm not trying not to include albums by bands who broke up due to a death, since those albums sound more like a thought interrupted than a collapse. In Utero is an exception. At the time of its release, many dismissed Kurt Cobain's tortured yowls and bleak lyrics as a pose, like he was acting the part of tortured rock star. It was no act. The pain in his voice on this album is the sound of someone who wasn't going to be around long.
Never Mind the Bollocks, Here's the Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols
It's the perfect debut album and the perfect collapse album for a band who were pretty much collapsed throughout their brief, crass and noisy quasi-career. It also manages to be absolutely wonderful and intolerably awful at the same time. Regardless of the album's strengths and flaws, it did manage to introduce a whole lot of people to punk rock.
Shoot Out the Lights, Richard & Linda Thompson
Not just a band collapsing on this Collapse Album, but some lives as well — providing proof that "absolutely beautiful" and "practically unbearable" are not mutually exclusive terms — this 1982 classic either documents or bears eerie similarities (depending on who you believe) to the implosion of the Thompsons' marriage. To hear the two voices on the album sing their hearts out in, ironically, perfect harmony is to experience a devastating wonder.
Strangeways Here We Come, The Smiths
It's officially a collapse album since it was the last made by the band, and guitarist Johnny Marr left between the recording and the release, bringing The Smiths to an end. Reportedly, Marr wanted to branch out in new directions and get a lot noisier while Morrissey wanted to keep being, you know, Morrissey. But the album, which features classics like "Girlfriend in a Coma", benefits greatly from the clash between the two creative directions and the contrast in those approaches. It's a great listen. In fact, Marr and Morrissey both consider it the band's best.
The Long Run, Eagles
There are two incredible talents that this band had: the ability to make masterful hook-laden country-rock songs with intricate vocal arrangements and the ability to remain absolutely humorless at all times. Both are in play here. The kings of dour classic rock were exhausted from years of touring and feeling intense pressure to top their Hotel California success. The resulting album feels tired, defeated, out of ideas, and about as comfortable as sitting in a wicker chair that's about to implode. Still, these guys had so much talent that The Long Run is like bad pizza: it may be bad, but it's still pizza.
I'm sure I missed some. Synchronicity has its defenders, I'm sure, it's just that I'm not one of them. But please, set me straight in the comments.
John Moe is heard every Wednesday on Oake & Riley in the Morning, commenting on the latest Internet trends. He also co-hosts the podcast Conversation Parade (with Open Mike Eagle) on the Infinite Guest network, and is an author of a number of books, including The Deleted Emails of Hilary Clinton: A Parody and Dear Luke, We Need To Talk, Darth: And Other Pop Culture Correspondences.