Written by Marlee Price
“If we both stand with absent eyes/And think about the oceans, watch ‘em dry/We can see far to the other side/It’s you and I forever, we don’t have to hide.”
The opening lines to the 1995 release You’d Prefer an Astronaut by modern rock group Hum set the stage for the rest of the 9 songs included on the album. With Matt Talbott on vocals and lead guitar, Tim Lash on guitar, Jeff Dimpsey on bass, and the extremely talented Bryan St. Pere, may he rest in peace, on drums, the group was a force to be reckoned with. Selling over 250,000 copies of You’d Prefer an Astronaut, their first record with a major label, they landed performances on TheHoward Stern Show, 120 Minutes, and Conan, as well as appearances on the cartoons Space Ghost Coast to Coast and Beavis and Butthead.
Before the release of this project, the makeup of the group members had shifted around before eventually landing on the lineup behind this album. Forming in Champaign, Illinois in 1989, Talbott was the only founding member remaining in 1995. In the case of the others, Dimpsey was recruited as a former bandmate of Talbott’s, Lash was a local fan-turned-member, and St. Pere was noticed by the others as he was playing drums along to a Rush track at his house with the window open. What a way to be discovered.
Upon pressing play on the first track, “Little Dipper,” the band wastes no time in establishing their sound. The heavy drums coinciding with Talbott’s moody lyricism creates an emotional movement that transitions seamlessly into the somewhat unsettling guitar that starts off the second track, “The Pod.” Talbott is known for keeping his vocal range tight, yet he still manages to convey such torrid emotion that leaves the listener wondering about the story behind the lyrics. “She climbs out from a dream with lungs/Hardly as she screams a stereo scream/And bends before astounding rain/She’s got a system made of metal/And magnet bits inside a brain.” The second half of the song intensifies with a drum solo and rhythm alterations, while Talbott strays from his usual hypnotic tone to exhibit a more forceful, desperate cry.
Track 3 needs no introduction, as it gained the most attention from listeners and even found itself peaking at #11 on the Hot Modern Rock Tracks chart. “Stars” begins with a soft guitar from Talbott, convincing listeners that this track would be calmer than the previous two, only to be interrupted by one of the greatest power chords in the history of music. When my brother performed this song at a local concert in my hometown, unsuspecting crowd members physically flinched from the raucous vibrations that exuded from the amps. The song takes listeners on a ride as it softens once more before escalating to its hard-hitting height tethered by Dimpsey’s bass. I can feel the rhythm that comes after each “She always waits for me” line in my soul each time I listen to it. In videos of the band performing this track, St. Pere can be seen smiling while banging his head to the beat, so enthralled and entertained by the music he’s playing.
The next three songs are very different from one another, yet they still fit together like puzzle pieces that make up the album. Track 4, “Suicide Machine,” is five minutes and fifty-six seconds of mesmeric slush. You can hear the agony in Talbott’s voice as he depicts loneliness almost too well: “All my wishes spin the fishes in the air and every one/A different shade of you.” The band leaves a lump of dread sitting right atop your heart as the song ends with the rhythmic chanting of “I need you.” The light instrumentals of the seceding track, “The Very Old Man,” brighten the mood, contrasting the inherent sadness still left in Talbott’s words. “And I like your raindrop collector, splash in my eyes and makes everything else look like you,” is my favorite line of track 6, “Why I Like the Robins.” The sound of this song is immensely unique, and flawlessly couples the verses with the guitar fuzz present in the chorus.
The slow outro of “Why I Like the Robins” seemed to be the perfect opportunity to flow into a slow intro on track 7, but Hum did the complete opposite. My favorite song on the record, “I’d Like Your Hair Long,” begins with an immediate churning of the guitar and drums that pairs extraordinarily with the lyrics, which on the surface can seem a little random – but are actually a big “screw you” to an ex-partner: “You’re a waste of a song/You’re a waste of my lungs.” This song also includes the album’s title, just so you know it isn’t totally random. One of my favorite videos on the internet is Hum’s live television studio performance of this track for 120 Minutesfrom July 30th, 1995. They just completely rip into the song, with each band member playing their instrument as hard as they can, as if each of them had been thinking of an old lover. The song settles down as it wanes on, but wait – you didn’t think they were done there, did you? The last 40 or so seconds are pure madness, with St. Pere being an absolute powerhouse on the kit. An excellent ending to the track.
Track 8, titled “I Hate it Too” follows the band’s beloved format of starting out with an unhurried, melancholy beat that is soon kicked up by St. Pere and Talbott, letting listeners rock out one last time before coming to the end of the record with “Songs of Farewell and Departure.” This track feels like closing a book after everything finally comes together on the last page. The unique down-tempo beat is kept interesting with changes in volume, ultimately mellowing out in the end as every great album does.
Something I love about this record that might not be noticed upon first listen is how there’s a theme kept throughout all the lyrics. The title, You’d Prefer an Astronaut, doesn’t make sense until you realize that every song mentions the atmosphere, more specifically space, in some form or fashion. Although only one song is directly titled so (“Stars”), there are references hidden in every song, all tying back to the title.
Favorite tracks: “I’d Like Your Hair Long,” “Why I Like the Robins,” “The Pod,” “Stars”
Rating: 9.5/10
Hum. You’d Prefer an Astronaut. RCA Records, 1995.