(Thanks to Meredith Oyen for lyrics translations.)
There's never been a full review of Mayday's first album on MaydayBlue because I never liked it as well as Viva Love, People Life Ocean Wild, or Time Machine. After reviewing those, I kept up with the rest, but the first album got left behind. It was too far back; it seemed irrelevant.
But with the seventh studio album on the way and all the discussion of Mayday returning to its early sound, a couple of weeks ago I listened to the first album for the first time in a year. And taken on its own terms, it's a fresh and charming record even today.
Back in 1999, Mayday was a largely unknown band in a Chinese pop scene made up almost entirely of individual artists. They were the rare act plucked out of the Taipei club scene for a major-label contract, probably because they showed a versatility beyond the punk sound that dominated that scene. Ashin's gift for pop songwriting and the band's penchant for creative production were evident even then on the Taiwan Colors Music compilation Touch Together: Music of the Gay and Lesbian in Taiwan.
Mayday still had to make those songs into hits and become stars in an industry where few bands had ever been stadium-fillers. They got a hasty makeover with outfits, an album cover, and a few videos that all played up their amiable good looks and their college roots. In terms of repertoire, there wasn't that much to work with: Several of the songs on Mayday came from Touch Together, and more of these would be tapped for Viva Love. At Mayday's 168th concert, which became their first live VCD, they basically performed the first album plus one cover, and then did "Peter and Mary" again, louder.
But thanks in large part to that song, it worked. They turned a bunch of songs from an album about gay liberation, and a ballad in Taiwanese about (so I have read) a soap-opera episode, plus some darkly ruminative pop tunes, into stardom and then superstardom.
Yet the best way to listen to Mayday's first album is to forget all that. Instead, take in the intricate details, the carefree sound, and the youthful, philosophical lyrics. It's not a polished album by any means, but its ideas and energy almost always make up for its technical shortcomings.
Though "Peter and Mary" was its biggest hit, what really defined the first album and Mayday's distinctive "band sound" were the mid-tempo rockers. "World Crazy" sets the tone as Track One with its youthful pondering of the universe, set to music that blends acoustic and electric guitars and Guanyou's frenetic drumming. The overall sound rocks just enough to tell us we're listening to a band that learned its chops on stage.
"Let It Out" (which got a new English title after appearing as "Coming Out" on Touch Together) is in the same vein. Ashin sings in double time to one of the best rhythm tracks Guanyou and Masa have ever played, and the guitar solo wails. There's even a brief sitar motif in the background, which Stone probably simulated with one of his effects boxes. The urban-woes chronicle "My Life," as well as "Hey! I'm Leaving!" with its inventive duet of electric guitar and toy xylophone, likewise are in the same vein. The arrangements and lyrics are quite sophisticated, but it still sounds like they're playing for fun on the beach.
As producers, Mayday played up this casual impression with "Hey! I'm Leaving!" Ashin kicks off the song by theatrically clearing his throat, then singing the first lines over a strummed acoustic guitar. The rest of the band comes in one by one, and the arrangement remains pretty spare throughout. At the end, the song builds to a thin little climax as if it's the biggest flourish the band can afford. Scattered applause (a Beatles reference: see below) completes the picture, and the joke. The point is not a yearning for the big time but a sense of humor about being small-time.
What stands out most about these songs is a sound that's light, yet hard-driving. And even though midtempo pop-rockers became the mainstay of almost all Mayday albums, only a few songs since have quite matched that tone. Perhaps the folk-flavored numbers, such as "Buddha Knows" and "Garbage Truck," come closest. (The "light metal" sound on Time Machine required a similar balancing act, but at a whole other level of polish and, well, loudness. The beach had melted into black glass by then.)
But another nice quality of the first album is its variety. For example, there are four excellent ballads: one sexy and smoldering ("Embrace"), one grand ("Peter and Mary"), one emotionally wrenching ("I Love You, Hopeless"), and one in a strummy dorm-room confessional style ("This Is Love") that the band unfortunately has never really revisited. In fact, there hasn't been so much diversity in ballads (nor this many ballads) on any subsequent album. And here again, there are ingenious touches in the arrangement, such as the interplay of strings, drums, and Monster's feeding-back guitar on "I Love You, Hopeless."
All this is in addition to the rocking holdovers from Mayday's punk-club sound, "Motor Rock," "HoSee," "Bullshit," and the frenetic "When the Wind Blows." Mayday's rock songs are hit and miss, but the years have been kind to these songs, which captured the band's youthful energy. Putting aside the dragged-out live versions I've heard, I found I actually enjoyed "Motor Rock" on this most recent hearing. Singing "street" cliches, Ashin seems out of his element, both musically and lyrically, but the band's eagerness makes up for it.
Lyrically, it's a pretty dark album, returning again and again to grim resignation. Most of the songs are filled with breakups, hectic days, unrequited love, and the impermanence of life, all of which their narrators accept as fate. Although he's only 24, Ashin comes across as an old soul here, much more so than on Mayday's subsequent albums that are leavened with humor and inspirational anthems.
But in some ways, the first album gave a pretty good picture of what was to come. The stark contrasts between the songs -- and even within them -- suggest musical differences in the band that would be ongoing, especially between Ashin's strongly pop direction and Stone and Monster's leanings toward punk and metal. Sometimes the guitar solos sound tacked on, and often it seems like they don't get enough time to develop. Mayday would find a better balance on Viva Love and again on Time Machine, but this first album is sometimes jarring and a little bit disappointing in this respect.
The distinctive thing about the first album is that everything is raw, which is both good and bad. Ashin's voice, in particular, strains over and over to reach the notes he's written. Experience and age have improved his sound since then, but on the other hand, his expression has never been better. He has his heart on his sleeve, sounding young, ambitious, and slightly sad all at the same time. In the same way, the arrangements on this album are so intriguing precisely because they are so simple. Mayday soon moved on from spare songs with clever, obvious details to layered soundscapes of much greater depth.
The qualities of the first album make up a big part of what still defines Mayday. Without the humor, the underdog spirit (alive right now in their "competition" with Jay Chou), and the tone of boyish camaraderie, Mayday would be just another band. To understand the five lads -- and for a great time -- every fan should check it out.
Note: In 1969, the Beatles staged an unannounced concert on the roof of their record label's office in London. At the end of the song "Get Back" -- a tune with a simple arrangement intended to recapture the band's early sound -- Maureen Starkey clapped as John Lennon said "I'd like to say thing you on behalf of the group and ourselves, and I hope we've passed the audition." That clip was tacked on to the ending of the song as it appeared on the album Let It Be. Coming from a band that has publicly emulated the Beatles as much as Mayday has, the reference is obvious.
