TELEVISION (1992)
Capitol Records
Produced by TELEVISION

I'm not even in a band and I can tell you this much: reunions are touchy. Even if you do find yourself able to revisit the sanity and comfort of a former partnership, you're bound to alienate plenty of the inevitable buildup of followers expecting lightning in a bottle to be recaptured. Still, even if you are bored and disheartened by the result of Television's unprecedented early-'90s return to the studio, you have to admit that they have the right idea in attempting just the opposite -- not the seeking out of former glories but a new synergy between the same old people.

This album is different in so many ways from MARQUEE MOON and ADVENTURE I don't even know where to start. It's far quieter, more densely layered and full of subtle grooves instead of the classic punk assault of dynamics. Tom Verlaine croons quietly instead of belting his vocals out, the guitars -- still a tower of them -- make their points in a far more relaxed manner, and to be perfectly honest the music is far more accessible, which may be a result both of the world coming around to its point of view and, inevitably, the aging of Verlaine and Richard Lloyd.

It's slick, no doubt about that, but it's still far from conventional -- in fact much farther from conventional than the older albums -- and it remains fascinating. The enigmatic intricacies of the cover art are impossibly fitting for the many secrets that lie underneath the surface of these meditative, mysterious, mesmerizing songs. Okay, they were always mesmerizing, and mysterious, but they had never before been so seductive.

A most useful way of evaluating the "rate of decay" from ADVENTURE to this is to examine the decade-plus between the albums. Fred Smith, in fact, did not marry Patti Smith, nor was he a member of Blondie (or the MC5), and honestly I have no clue what he was up to in the '80s, but Billy Ficca drummed for the Waitresses, who evaporated quickly. Meanwhile, the breadth of Television's influence was appalling, not only on new wave but on all sorts of up-and-coming rock hitmakers. By the time this album was released, the indie scene and (in some cases) the pop charts were packed full of bands with numerous obvious cues taken from Television, ranging from direct semi-clones the Catherine Wheel and the Church to less obvious but just as potent descendents such as Yo La Tengo, the Cure, R.E.M., and -- most notably -- U2. Most bands would take this as a reason to distance themselves from their signature sound, one remarkably well-established in a mere two albums of eight songs each, but in fact Television takes the surprising option to adapt themselves to the sound of their followers while challenging simplicity at every turn to make music that stuns not in the electrifying, undeniable fashion of their '70s performances but in a rumbling, delicate and graceful fashion completely unique to them.

The album's strengths come from its ignorance of the past. The band seems delighted to treat themselves as a new act, from the minimalistic title to the born-again musical search for a new and different audience. When you think about it, that's a courageous move, but in another way it's clearly the correct path to take. Verlaine and Lloyd had not become stagnant in their own careers. The former had issued two classic albums and the latter plenty of consistently challenging works, and the album plays perfectly as an evolution of their individual material; you can hear it as a Lloyd or, more likely, Verlaine solo album, but you can't ignore the advantage the collaboration affords them. These are the best songs either had issued in a decade.

A lot of the beauty in MARQUEE MOON and, to a lesser extent, ADVENTURE was a product of drama, with the exception of the shattering "Days," which is a major reason why TELEVISION functions so flawlessly even if it lacks the earth-shaking brilliance of the earlier efforts: instead of attempting to duplicate that drama, the '92 record searches for its own kind of shimmering grace. "No Glamour for Willi" (one of Verlaine's most moving compositions, a career highlight) and "Shane, She Wrote This," for example, are haunting songs of a stirring, discreet power that one would never have expected from the band twelve years prior. The only real clue in their catalog to this approach is in their debut single, the maddeningly minimal "Little Johnny Jewel," and even that laid its cards on the table much more quickly. "Shane" is a song that endears itself more with each listen, while "Willi" is blissful pop music of inescapable wisdom and elegance.

"Elegant" is the perfect word for the majority of this material, and the constant restraint in the band's performances, songwriting, and Verlain's vocals -- which may lead some to conclude that it is bland -- are what lends it this sheen of nonchalant, intensely complex appeal. Even the skeptics have to see that the ghostly "1800 or So" comes close to toppling "Days" as their most beautiful song if not their most overwhelmingly touching. Most of these songs are pretty... but that would be meaningless if they weren't also so engaging and addictive.

"Ecstatic" is another good word, and fun... "In World," "This Tune," and the incredible "Call Mr. Lee" are all delightful in every way, recasting Rolling Stones riffage with highly modern style and an intoxicating, dusty kind of presence... leaping and racing away as you try to understand fully the magnitude of every moment. Say this much -- an excruciating amount of effort clearly went into each song here, so deliciously tweaked and calculated and teasing is every second, with all the trickery pushing the right buttons. It's the least obvious ear candy I've ever heard.

There was a suggestion of eroticism always present in Television's work, but this is the one sense in which TELEVISION truly progresses beyond the earlier albums, for "Rhyme" is probably the most ingenious and deeply felt expression of sensuality on record this side of "Don't Talk (Put Your Head on My Shoulder)." It's pure sex in the voices and percussion but especially in the guitars, and you will be seduced; this alone is worth the price of the album.

All of the aforementioned songs could easily have been wonderful singles; I wouldn't hesitate to call them undiscovered classics. Maybe they're not on the level of the original Television material, but we're talking about some of the all-time greatest performances in rock history, and TELEVISION exceeds all expectations as a followup over ten years after the fact. I mean, "No Glamour for Willi," "Rhyme," "Call Mr. Lee," and "1880 or So" -- I can't imagine stuff far beyond this for gentle glory. Unfortunately, there is a bit of filler, if intriguing filler in the form of neither-here-nor-there stuff like "The Rocket" and the closing "Mars," a far cry from Verlaine's usual lyricism -- "Willi," for example, is a wonderful character study of a smart girl in love, executed as only one man could, but I don't know what on earth to make of the plodding "Mars," and "The Rocket" is to these ears the closest thing to a waste of time in Television's catalog.

But everything here is worth hearing and most of it is worth loving. I think all of the fans who have dismissed this would do well to revisit it free of expectations -- obviously not the easiest thing to do -- and appreciate its sweet offerings for the treasures they are. For those who are already in love with MARQUEE MOON and ADVENTURE and haven't investigated this record yet, I'm sure you're wondering if in the end it is worth seeking out. The answer is, absolutely with no lingering doubt, yes. Go get it now.