A Class Unto Themselves, The Call
Our 100th Episode was spent with Tom Ferrier and Jim Goodwin from The Call.
Peter Gabriel famously said The Call was “the future of American music.” He wasn’t wrong, it’s that too few people were paying attention.
It’s time to change that.
They’re back in a big way with The Lost Tapes and re-mastered versions of Reconciled and Into the Woods. No spoilers here; you’ll have to listen to the podcast to find out what The Lost Tapes is all about. Better yet, head over to The Call’s Bandcamp page and just purchase a copy.
The Call and my intellectual awakening are inextricably linked.
Growing up, my father groomed me to be some kind of business mogul. Sundays were for golf, and the week was for school, discussion, and study. I can say with complete certainty that among my peer group, I was the only one reading The One Minute Manager and Lee Iacocca's autobiography… at 13. You see, these were the days of Ronald Reagan and Alex P. Keaton. Truthfully, I found all of that kind of stuff silly and the reality was that I was more into smoking bones and listening to Iron Maiden the way the old man was into vodka and golf.
Nonetheless, to keep peace, I played along… for a few years anyway. And then I heard “The Walls Came Down,” the first single off their second album, Modern Romans. In and of itself, not an outright protest song, but for the kid who moved from Dr. Suess to business books without passing “Go,” the last verse was a clarion call.
I don't think there are any Russians
And there ain't no Yanks
Just corporate criminals
Playin' with tanks
I was aware of all the protest songs and artists from the 60s, but for my young, developing brain, I heard something political in “The Walls Came Down.”
I was right.
It was that verse that hit me right in the solar plexus. Four lines calling into question almost everything I knew up to that point.
Suffice it to say, I heeded The Call.
“Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.” Leonardo DaVinci
The Call bellow from the periphery with a fervor that’s as wickedly undeniable as it is wildly underappreciated.
Born of the hallowed grounds of Santa Cruz, 1980, the classic line-up was shepherded by the baritone prophet Michael Been, drum oracle Scott Musick, axe wielder Tom Ferrier, and the key master general, Jim Goodwin. The band conjured a sound as dense and mystical as the fog in the San Francisco Bay.
Their songs still resonate like a gut punch wrapped in velvet, a siren call to the spiritually bankrupt and politically disenchanted alike… or those just beginning that long and arduous journey.
You see, friends, The Call wasn't content to play footsie with the ephemeral trends of new wave's fleeting embrace. No, their craft was a richer brew, a concoction of rock's muscularity, new wave’s cerebral dance, and a lyrical depth that dove headfirst into the existential.
Albums like "Reconciled" and "Into the Woods" weren't just collections of songs; they were anthologies of anthems.
Critics lavished praise, yet the fickle beast of commercial success eluded The Call. Not that they cared. Been's lyrics—incantations, really—spoke of love, faith, and the kind of socio-political commentary that makes mince meat of lesser songwriters. This wasn't music for your feet to dance to; it was music for your soul to grow from; these songs are a clarion call to wake the hell up.
The cruel twist of fate that silenced Been in 2010 did little to dim the luminescence of The Call's legacy. Ever the square peg in rock's round hole, The Call crafted a discography that stands as a beacon for those wandering the wasteland of pop's empty calories.
In the end, The Call's saga is one of those prophetic gifts bestowed upon a world that didn't know it was starving for substance… is still starving for substance. Their echo lingers, a testament to the power of conviction in a sea of conformity.
I never did make it to the corner office, could give a shit about my golf game, and can’t remember a damn thing from Iacocca’s autobiography or The One Minute Manager, but I can, and do, sing along to almost every song by The Call.
I’ll take that over a corner office any day of the week.
Listen here:
