The Bee's Knees

There are a lot of ways to describe Philadelphia’s The Bigger Lovers: “Big Star produced by Phil Spector.” “An impossible puzzle of muses coming together.” “Melancholic cake.”

OK, that last one only shows up if you plug an Italian review through Google's automatic translator. But still, not a bad summation. A lot of pop bands choke on treacle or overdose on sincerity, but The Bigger Lovers find the right balance between sweet and tart, polished and raw.

The Lovers have had their tribulations, including the two years and two labels it took to get their first album, 2001's How I Learned to Stop Worrying, released (a story City Paper readers should be intimately familiar with). But things are, as they say, looking up. Worrying sent critics swooning, and the touring they did behind the record has started to win fans in America's most cosmopolitan metropolises. (I had the distinct pleasure of walking in on a Chicago jukebox pumping out "Threadbare" not long after the album's release.)

Of course, good reviews don't put gas in the van, and critically beloved but little-heard records are all too common in the world of guitar-driven pop. But Honey in the Hive (Yep Roc), the Lovers' sparkling second album, has the intimacy of music that was made while no one was listening, and the confidence to suggest that they'd better start. Produced at Manayunk's Miner Street Studios by Thom Monahan (Pernice Brothers) and engineered by Miner Street's Brian McTear, Honey is a straight-ahead blast of gorgeous, surging melodies, polished to a high gloss without losing its edge. From the thunderous annunciation of "Half Richard's" through the swooning (Pet) sounds of "Minivan Blues," it's the kind of album where you can wake up every morning with a different song in your head.

While it was undoubtedly a relief to get their first album out of debtor's prison, the band isn't wholly thrilled with the performance of its former label. Over drinks near the band's temporary NoLibs practice space, singer-guitarist Bret Tobias grimly sums it up thusly: "It took three years to happen and was out of print within eight months." "It's just ripe to be a collector's item reissue someday," chimes in drummer Patrick Berkery. "It's got all the makings."

That being the case, the band decided to take their time looking for a new label and opted to finance Honey's recording themselves, which still ended up costing them "far less" than they paid to retrieve their first album from their original label, which went bankrupt without releasing it. (One sign that they're still commitment-wary: Honey is only licensed to Yep Roc; the band still owns it, although their contract includes "proper advances" for future records.) Monahan's lush, textured sound is a change of pace from Worrying's studio trickery, and one that arguably serves the band's songs better. "One thing with our first record, the crazy production maybe at times took away a little bit from the vocals," says Berkery (who, incidentally, doubles as a music critic). "That's what should have been going on up front: the hooks and the vocals."

No such imbalance hinders Honey in the Hive. Asked what Monahan's greatest contribution was, Tobias and co-singer/bassist Scott Jefferson agree: "vocals." Layered seven or eight harmonies deep, often with Monahan and McTear piping in, songs like "Half Richard's" or the soaring "Bought Your Ghost" take the Bigger Lovers' art to a thrilling new level.

That's not to say it came easy. The credits for the aching "You're In Love, Again," wistfully note that Tobias "nailed the lead vocal in a mere 27 tries." And while Monahan's studio rat stamina is quasi-legendary among the band, even he almost gave up on "Ghost" -- the song which, Berkery points out, has been getting some of the strongest advance response. Tobias' lead vocal was recorded by McTear while Monahan was mixing the album in another room, and it was only after guitarist Ed Hogarty came up with a handful of connective parts that the song finally came together. But listening to Honey, you'd never know that the songs weren't hatched just as they are now; even the most labored-over tracks don't betray their tortuous origins.

The band's relationship with Yep Roc, the North Carolina label that's also home to Nick Lowe and the Mayflies USA, is, Tobias says sardonically, "almost running too smoothly. Sometimes we get these slap-on-the-wrist e-mails, like ŒYou didn't need to copy everybody on that -- it's gonna get done.' We're just so used to dealing with completely incompetent people who need to be bashed over the head before they'll do fucking anything." With a proper publicist and a booking agent behind them, the band is about to hit the road for their most extensive U.S. jaunt yet, and entertains hopes of doing a month in Europe next year (which would give them a chance to explain the oddly Kraftwerk-esque artwork for Worrying's European release). Mostly, says Tobias, they're looking to get to the level where "150 people in each town give a shit." The level, Berkery says, "to where you can just go out, and you know a bunch of people are going to show up every time you play. That would be like a fucking arena tour for us."

The Bigger Lovers play a record release show with Lenola, Art DiFuria and Eamon Vitt, Sat., Sept. 7, 9:30 p.m., $7, The Khyber, 56 S. Second St. The band will also perform in-store Fri., Sept. 6, 1 p.m., at Tower Records, 110 S. Broad St.

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September 19, 2002
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