by David Wilikofsky
There’s extremely little information on the internet about Fine Art, but here’s what I know. The six person rock band hailed from the Twin Cities, part of the scene that gave birth to bands like The Replacements and Hüsker Dü. Active from approximately 1978 – 1983, their recorded output is this lone LP, which captured an early lineup of the band, and Scan, an EP released close to the end of their lifetime. The band never found much success or recognition outside their local scene; although it’s hard to know why, a dearth of recorded material combined with rarely touring almost certainly didn’t help (this article tries to break down some of the factors that may have limited the band’s career). As best I can tell they’re little more than a footnote in music history.
This categorization seems grossly unjust when you listen to their debut album, which sounds like a long lost proto punk classic that can stand with the best of the genre. There’s some of the glam rock swagger of the New York Dolls and plenty of ripping guitar solos that wouldn’t feel out of place on a Television album, but they also stretch out and experiment. “My Brain Hurts” introduces some new wave quirks into the mix, while “Big Kids In The Alley” is filled with dense, metal-esque riffs. They have three vocalists who trade duties throughout the album, each with their own distinct style. It’s the kind of album that sounds instantly familiar because of all these reference points but still manages to combine those sounds into something new and exciting.
There’s a malaise that hovers over the album; the lyrics paint a picture of a dark, claustrophobic world filled with danger and conflict. They burst out of the gates with “Don’t Tell Me That”, an ode to shutting out the world. “Wherever you look there’s cancer and war / You’re crazy to step outside your door” they sing, a sentiment that feels particularly apt in this day and age. There’s a sense of isolation and disconnect throughout: “Let me confide this emptiness inside / I’ve got too much pride” (“Too Much Pride”), “I need someone to speak my language” (“Speak My Language”), “I’ve got to protect myself / Leave the problems of the world to someone else” (“I’ve Got to Protect Myself”). These words and phrases drift by as the album plays, accumulating impact. The most powerful moments come at the end of the album in the form of “Rapist”. Written from the point of view of a survivor, it’s a portrait of the lasting psychological damage of rape while simultaneously functioning as a call to believe and not blame victims. It’s a timeless song that feels like it could fit into the 90s riot grrl canon as easily as it could have been written yesterday.
The band never sounded this raw and angry on record again; Scan is a more muted affair, taking some of the fire seen here and mixing it with more atmospheric elements. Fine Art shows a band in its prime that never really got its due. It’s nearly impossible to find a full rip online, but check out the final track, “Big Kids In The Alley”, here.