Love lines

Versus revel in emotional turmoil

by Mark Woodlief

Wandering the dense jungles of sexual politics and napalmed relationships never seems to get old for Versus, the New York indie-rock quartet who are back with their second Caroline CD, Two Cents Plus Tax, the follow-up to 1996's Secret Swingers, and a show this Sunday at the Century Lounge. On Secret Swingers vocalists Richard Baluyut and Fontaine Toups offered little solace to lovers, prefacing one particularly bleak tune, "Double Suicide (Mercy Killing)," by whispering "This song is for all you couples out there." Ouch.

Much of the rest of Secret Swingers focused on fallen hopes, failed relationships, and dysfunctional partners, so Two Cents can scarcely help being a little less acidic. But the wonderful thing about Versus is that even when they're at their most downcast and depressing, the group's music has always incorporated an edgy buoyancy, gorgeous vocal interplay, and lush guitar textures that amount to one terrific spoonful of sugar.

Still tramping in the emotional brush on Two Cents Plus Tax, Versus nevertheless develop some fresh musical and personal perspective. String arrangements, synths, and piano dot the well-crafted soundscape. Richard and his brother James are at their energetic best on guitar, as the band ambitiously fuse Afro-pop rhythms with their indie-rock sensibility on "Jack and Jill." Versus also nod in the direction of the y'all-ternative crowd with the twangy "Spastic Reaction."

But the group's signature sound -- grainy and jangly guitars, artless vocals, deceptively pretty melodies -- comes through clearest on the forceful lead track, "Atomic Kid." In the chorus, Richard Baluyut coyly refers to early indie heroes Mission of Burma -- the New Yorkers take their name from the Burma album Vs. -- with a lyrical homage ("These are not the Elysian fields") to "This Is Not a Photograph." (He may also be making a snide reference to the slicker NYC band Elysian Fields.) Against a backdrop of effervescent guitar riffs and celebratory, surging rhythms, he tells a Cold War-fixated character to stop living in the past: "There's no demon under your bed/Can't you see it's all in your head?"

Too bad he can't apply that advice to his own life, especially to the romantic relationships he addresses in his songs. He and Toups both wear emotional scars in plain view on Two Cents. Even "Dumb Fun" turns out to be an exploration of the underbelly of innocence: two lovers break up after finding something special in a quest for harmless enjoyment, becoming solitary "ghosts" in "failed apartments." On the mournful but scintillating "Crazy Maker (I'm Still In Love with Your Eyes)" and the revved-up "Morning Glory," Baluyut is dramatically lovelorn. He is, as Bob Mould once sang, hardly getting over it.

Neither, it appears, is Toups, who follows Baluyut's confessional ("Dumb Fun") with one of her own, the plaintive "Never Be O.K." Her supple, ethereal vocal describes an unspecified betrayal, with no hope of reconciliation. "How could a husband do that?" she asks. "How could my boyfriend do that? It'll never be okay."

Even when the band explore new sonic territory, they find thorns. On "Jack And Jill," an evening of dumb fun -- barhopping and making the scene -- in the big city goes awry. On the morning after, Toups's character kicks her date out of his own apartment. The country-tinged duet, "Spastic Reaction," finds Toups telling Baluyut, "I know you're always looking for someone new/Me too."

With all this frustration, melancholy, and bitterness, you might wonder what makes the group so listenable. Really, it's nothing more complicated than nimble guitar playing, carbonated punch, and an elegant, graceful tension. Superchunk's bounce, Guided by Voices' charm, Sonic Youth's daring, and Television's eloquence are all part of the Versus equation.

It also helps that everyone's got a bad-relationship story to tell: we can all relate on some level to the emotional turmoil in these songs. With luck we'll also relate to the vibrant sense of healing, cleansing, and survival here. Chiming guitars, loping bass, airy vocal harmonies, and galloping drums won't heal all wounds, of course, but Versus actually seem to be cheering up (or rocking out) as they mature as musicians. Not that we'd want them too happy. Where's the fun in that?

Versus join the Pacific Ocean and Meridian 15'20" this Sunday, July 12, at the Century Lounge. Call 751-2255.