Tony Sly – Sad Bear

At least for me, four personalities dominated the heyday of 90’s melodic punk rock: Bad Religion, NOFX, Lagwagon, and No Use For A Name.  These four powerhouses controlled the underground and built their careers on relentless touring schedules with nearly unbreakable allegiances with independent labels (with the exception of Bad Religion’s ironically weaker Atlantic days) that last to this day.  But the fire of youth can only burn until the realities and responsibilities of age set in.

For Bad Religion’s Greg Graffin, that took the form of pursuing a doctorate in evolutionary science; NOFX’s Fat Mike laid claim to one of the most influential independent punk labels in the scene; and Joey Cape from Lagwagon and to a lesser extent Tony Sly of No Use For A Name just kind of faded away.  Both bands saw members invest in their families with new material and tours becoming less frequent.  But as the saying goes: punk rock doesn’t pay the rent.  Consequently, both front men have taken the solo route to continue doing the one thing they do best, writing music and performing shows.

But let’s be honest, times have changed.  Not only is what’s popular in 2011 much different year than their counter parts twenty years ago, but maturity evolves preferences, and for better or worse age makes its mark on the soul.  Consequently, both Sly and Cape’s current output are deeply introspective and a far cry from their once rebellious attitude.  But while both currently dawn acoustic guitars for tales of reflection, Cape has held his composure, while Sly seems to have slipped into a melancholy state.  His first outing, 12 Song Program, was dark and self-depreciating, but dare I say that his second effort, Sad Bear, walks a downright depressing line.

Sad Bear serves as a platform for Sly’s most personal thoughts.  12 Song Program felt built on personal actions, whereas Sad Bear seems born from a position of empathy.  These twelve songs are personal opinions and outlooks as Sly sees them – and like many Americans during these “uncertain economic times,” Sly sees the world going to hell in a hand basket.  While there are still songs about the burden and toll songwriting has taken on Sly (see openers “Denvonshire and Crown,” “Dark Corner”), his opinions reach far beyond his experience as a songwriter.  “A poor man with a rich man’s habit is a dead man… a funeral is a body without a corpse, a wedding is two strangers then divorce” sings Sly over two minutes of exposing life’s inconsistencies on “Discomfort Inn.”

But if you thought that was a downer, Sly is just getting warmed up.

If “Hey God” is an indication, Sly has already given up on those around him and is just living out his days thankful for what he has.  I’m not usually one for block quotes, but with the clarity of the following passage case I’m willing to make an exception:

“A country torn to shreds by consolidated debt, as we watch another store close down; we can’t live before, without paying the bank more, for the loans they will not allow, today I heard a mother crying, I cannot live with this, so be strong keep your head up fighting – cause this is all there is.  He’s sitting on a bench with his hands over his face as his daughter moves closer to him; six months without a job now the benefits are gone, and the anti-depressants that help him live.  Hey God I’ve got a message for you, I don’t think you exist.”

Sly’s message is one of helplessness – that no one can save you but yourself, and that if you fall off the horse, don’t count on climbing back up.  Or put otherwise, that the American dream is dead, and that hard work is now something people must do to survive, not succeed.

Oddly though, I’ve found myself drawn to Sad Bear.  Maybe it’s the realism.  Sly holds nothing back so every listener with a pulse has the potential to form a real bond.  It’s also worth noting that nowhere does Sly give up on himself.  The single ray of light guiding Sly is his family, and if the uppity “Homecoming” is any indication, one of his primary reasons for remaining in the music industry.  The pure love and sheer reward Sly describes upon returning home from the road clearly keeps him waking up every morning, and serves a motivation anyone can respect.

Against a backdrop of carefully selected instruments (a roving cast of mandolins, strings, and synth notes), Tony Sly weaves his acoustic tales with the gnarled outlook of age for one of the most personal outputs by a punk rock icon.  He doesn’t take too many chances, but that’s hardly the point.  Solo projects seem to be all the rage these days, and I for one always make an effort to hear listen to those willing to share.  I used to think they were simple trendy industry cash-ins, but thanks to thoughtful outputs like Sad Bear, I’ve come to see that every songwriter has a story, and that when they’re ready to share it, I’d be a fool to close my ears.  I suggest you do the same.