What is it about a long-running band's final record? Sure, Led Zeppelin's
In Through the Out Door was undoubtedly heaved upon thousands of shipping pallets in 1979, but posthumously it was hardly revered. The Replacements swan song,
All Shook Down is a phenomenal collection of thoughtful, inspired songs, yet even some die-hard Mats aficionados regard it merely as Paul Westerberg's first solo LP. And Guided By Voices intended "last" album, 2004's
Half Smiles of the Decomposed was the least talked about LP in their elephantine canon. Believe it or not, this brings us to
Game Theory's parting shot, 1988's
2 Steps From the Middle Ages. It was the
the late Scott Miller helmed collective's fifth record. and is being commemorated with a bonus-ized
reissue nearly three decades after the fact. By no stretch did it meet a quiet reception upon it's arrival that year, enjoying myriad critical plaudits, success on gobs of left-of-the dial frequencies, and even some startlingly unlikely appreciation from C.C. DeVille of GT's Enigma label-mates Poison. But in the grand scheme of things
2 Steps is just about the least discussed and seemingly least remembered item in the band's impressive arsenal - and for no conspicuous reason I might add.
Granted, this album fell on the heels of the sprawling, ambitious and occasionally obtuse
Lolita Nation. That double platter set was often mistook for a concept piece, but misconceptions aside Game Theory had poured virtually every bit of creative juice into that project - maybe so much so that anything else they would dispense in the future would be regarded as an afterthought. But
2 Steps, while considerably more conventional (particularly in it's presentation) bore songs that were every bit as rich and affecting as those residing on
Lolita and
The Big Shot Chronicles. Scott Miller and Co's trajectory began with 1982's slyly esoteric
Blaze of Glory, a collegiate level pastiche of power pop-cum-art rock, and with every successive Game Theory release the band inched towards a more streamlined modus operandi while managing to refrain from encroaching into the soon to be constipated bowels of pandering alt-rock. In essence,
2 Steps not only strikes me as advanced for it's era, but sounds fresh and bold even when gauged by a twenty-first century measuring stick. Miller's cocktail of verbose text and brisk, melodic song structures ascends to a new apex on "Rolling With the City Girls," "You Drive" and "Throwing the Election." Even when mining a less euphoric vein ("Leilani" and 'Wyoming") Game Theory bring A-grade material to the table, leaving me all the more bewildered as to why this record is so rarely mentioned in the same breath as
Lolita... and
Real Nighttime.
As with previous installments in Omnivore Records
Game Theory reissue campaign,
2 Steps is nicely padded with a trove of supplemental material. Rather than taking the typical approach of drawing from one contiguous concert or demo reel, the eleven bonus cuts here are culled from a multitude of sources. One of the most revealing curios is a radio session take of Let's Active's "Bad Machinery." Not a terribly coincidental pick, considering Game Theory's association with Let's Active's
Mitch Easter. Early stabs at "Wyoming" and "Room for One More, Honey" are a treat, as are live versions of GT staples "The Waist and the Knees" and "Sleeping Through Heaven." You can find the expanded reissue of
2 Steps From the Middle Ages at
Omnivore.com or
Amazon and
iTunes.
PS: I'd be remiss if I neglected to mention the passing of Game Theory drummer
Gil Ray earlier this year.
This one's three decades old, but nonetheless I failed to investigate The Bible! until far more recently. From what I've been able to glean the exclamation mark on their moniker was only applied on early releases. This Cambridge, UK combo actually had two full lengths that were apparently well circulated - Walking the Ghost Back Home (1986) and Eureka, on a major label no less, a couple years later. Behold their first single (depicted to your left). "Graceland" is an exemplary slice of Anglophile pop, rife with lilting folky textures a la Aztec Camera and Justin Hayward's post-Haircut One Hundred solo forays. The single would be released several times over in multiple formats in the years to follow. The flip, "Sweetness" is considerably more chilled-out, gravitating toward the AOR realm.
