Loudon Wainwright III, “Attempted Moustache”

Loudon Wainwright III strikes me as a habitual goof. He seems to be one of those good natured guys that promises great things and never delivers them. Whether that makes him a romantic idealist or a wishy-washy mess is up to the listener, and it makes his 1973 anti-classic Attempted Moustache very frustrating.

Simply put, Wainwright doesn’t take himself very seriously. Several of the songs are jokes that run on too long. The novelty isn’t bad but there are moments on the record of truly poignant universal folk music that take your breath away. It’s heartbreaking to be impressed by the poetry of Swimming Song and then have to sit through a fake coctail-jazz number driven by the assumption that hearing the phrase “bell-bottom pants” over and over is hilarious. And then sit though some obnoxious a-cappella chanting about Liza Minelli. And then a fratboy-esque redo of Woody Guthrie’s New York Town to half-ass a joke about Jesus Christ and Mary Magdalene making out.

Between the highs and lows, there’s a lot of bland music with painfully unclever lyrics. Want to hear what a stock 70s studio band sounded like? Imagine a mix of unspecific country and roots rockplayed by guys hired by a label to go through the motions. And then put the sloppy booziness of Wainwright’s personality on top. Tracks like Clockwork Chartreuse and Nocturnal Stumblebutt tempt one into writing him off as selfish, sexist, baselessly angry, and just plain unfunny. The Onion AvClub once commented that Nocturnal Stumblebutt is an excellent instance of a man coming to grips with the realization that his alcoholism has made him pathetic. I don’t think they were talking about the actual content of the song though, which sounds like it was scribbled seconds before recording. Lines like, Eureka! I’m in luck/Found some matches and a crumpled butt, leave you shaking your head in exasperation.

The album’s most cringe-inducing moment, however, is Lullaby, where Wainwright takes his frustration out on someone keeping him awake. He has later revealed that the song is about himself, but that didn’t stop him from making it clear in the printings of the lyrics he’s pronouncing “ruthless” as “Rufus”. If anyone wants to know why the Wainwright kids are so crazy there’s your reason.

Most albums with lows that low are irredeemable, but part of the drama of the record is the soaring highs of tracks like Swimming Song, Come a Long Way, and The Man Who Couldn’t Cry. Alternating between these moments of supreme lucidity and the other tracks make this an album with which you can have a fruitfully dysfunctional relationship. The Man Who Couldn’t Cry is a bitter epic that gives worth to all the other middling ideas heard up until then. Wainwright flexes his narrator muscles and successfully assumes the voice he’s been hinting at all over the album to tell of a Job-like figure persecuted by others and by life itself for his inability to show sympathy. The story ends with the death of our hero and his satisfaction at seeing ruin come to those who wronged him. Come A Long Way is one of those classic folk songs that exists to give wisdom for when you need it. Penned by Wainwright’s then-wife Kate McGarrigle, the song lists some bittersweet truths in the form of a reconciliation between two people coming to the end of a grudge.

It’s the opening track, Swimming Song, that is the clearest reason for the necessity of this record. The twin banjos of the intro greet the listener into a deceptively cinematic production of a full country band in action. The music rises and falls in waves and effectively evocates images of Southern US lakes and rivers. Wainwright complements it with one of the greatest sets of lyrics ever put on tape. You see, this summer he went swimming. This summer he might have drowned, but he held his breath and kicked his feet and he moved his arms around. The symbolism is striking.

Those three tracks are absolutely essential, the rest of the album not so much. It’s worth a listen though, especially if you enjoy psychoanalyzing folks based on their writing. Wainwright was going through a difficult period then and it shows. Artistic or not, it’s can be a rewarding study in a volatile personality trying to keep his priorities in line despite his tendency to self-sabotage.