Moments In Love: Jellysfish's Joining A Fanclub (Live)
by Howard Cressi-Stallworth
Jellyfish were one of the strangest groups to exist in popular consciousness in the 90s. A group seemingly out of step and time (out of the Banana Splits TV shows time machine no doubt) wasted no time in impressing the musical landscape (then of the last embers of glam metal and the halcyon days of slicing up eyeballs era alternative rock) on televisions and concert halls across America and the United Kingdom. The group of four talented songwriters all in their own right spent countless hours in their rooms perfecting demos of beyond well crafted songs consisting of nods towards their record collection so intense you’d thought they were telling you “yes”, giving us pop songs worthy of Elton John and Wings. They would then spend even more countless hours in the studio layering vocal harmonies and getting every last note right just as their heroes had done. Tracks like “The King Is Half Undressed” and “All I Want Is Everything” used every trick in the book from harpsichords to timpanis with unabashed pleasure and never forgetting that the song was king.
Ultimately their legacy was cemented with underground pop fans when Spilt Milk was released. Spilt Milk was their magnum opus to pop music young and old starts with the opening salvo of “Hush”, a contemplative parental whisper filled with California harmonies intercepted by Queens multi-layered oozin aahs. It is some of the best vocal harmony interplay this side of a D’angelo mix minus. Wonderfully recorded and mixed and not to mention the poignant lyrics dedicated to someone who is heading off to a dreamland that is the entirety of the record to follow. “Hush”, in all its lullabyeland moods is nothing but a fakeout for the sucker punch that is “Joining A Fanclub.”
“Joining A Fanclub” is a multipart rainbow tiered musical paeon to singersongwriter-isms of the mid 70s, to rock tropes of the 90s, and to harmonies of the boardwalk variety. Hard rocking in its intensity and layered to make Jeff Lyne blush, its unabashed rocking swagger, specifically in its midsection (which ironically almost points to it with its pun laden sexual reference points of selling out) shows their former tour mates The Black Crowes just how hard to swing. After a solo section that blazes faster than you can keep up (and with brass to boot) finally it comes crashing into a half step key change bringing it all back home in multi-laden vocal glory. The dawn chorus of the Jellyfish singers left jaws dropping in dorm rooms all across America I’m sure.
The lyrics are a playful nod to the fanclubs of the 1970s, for investing in the spirit and celebrity of the rock group, often perched higher than religion in some small suburban towns children grew up in. To Jellyfish, wearing a KISS mask while watching their films and then playing air guitar to Black Diamond was the Homily and the Communion all in one, and with enough semi-sexual release to require two Hail Mary’s and at least four confessions. The lyrics discussing music obsessiveness combined with the intense emotional investment towards music, an artist, let alone the memories of heartbreak and happiness associated with the listeners life with the song, comes crashing down in this bittersweet reminder of just how far music fandom and love for an artist and the times spent with them go.
However, the most impressive feature of this track isn’t even on the original release. No the ever evolving Jellyfish couldn’t stick to the script and started improvising. In their live show once they hit the final verse multiple lines in, they have their instruments drop out and the vocal harmonies take over, allowing the audience to hear the closeness of the vocals and just how much thought the group put into the harmonies. But its just a wink because as soon as the line is over, Andy Sturmer’s drums come crashing back in, but the harmonies don’t stop there.
For the “and I’d wish I’d loved him” line, Andy sings the first half alone before the rest of the group joins him on “fate crashed his car” extending the last line like a barbershop quartet on its last set of the night just about to fall over before finally taking a breath to finish the final line of the song and ending on a magnificent crash.
This track alone would be impressive if anyone just sang that last part let alone put it in with a song filled with four other wonderful and independent musical sections. Much like their own musical listening habits, we’ve gone from piano led vocals to a hard rocking verse and chorus to a swaggering middle eight to a thrashing solo section worthy of a Dinosaur Jr solo and back down to earth for an F Major chorus. I absolutely never tire of this song, its buildup and its message. Every time each syllable hits its just as powerful as the first 20 times I heard it. The harmonies reveal themselves to me upon each listen of each iteration of the song I choose to listen to.
To even attempt all of that in the alternative world of grunge and indie rock was something to be marveled at. It was something worthy of the then bubbling neo-soul world, something Black Men United would’ve jumped off the couch for. Hell it was something worth for Van Dyke Parks and Harry Nilsson (who they almost met before he died). It was music for musicians and music fans who appreciated every facet of the record collection whether cool or lame. Jellyfish didn’t care. They were celebrating it and celebrating you for joining them. Jellyfish were one fanclub worth staying on the newsletter for a little while longer.