As the distance between then and now increases, the ‘80s are becoming little more than a series of static pictures set within a flip-book animation. When sped through, which is how said animation works, everything flows and seems complete. But when you go slow, and the eyes aren’t fixed on just the imagery, the pages turn out to be mostly blank. The pictures take up less than half the available space. Which is to say, and this is the case for much of the past as it’s presented on TV, shorthand history has become accepted history.
When it comes to music, that means a lot is left out. As I’ve noted before, there was more—much more—to the decade than the singers and bands featured on MTV. History Kinda Pales When It and You Are Aligned: The Days of Wine and Roses 40th Anniversary Edition is a four-disc set curated by counterculture historian and archival music producer Pat Thomas that should hopefully fill in some of the blanks. In total, it’s 54 tracks, including the original nine-song album that was released on October 28, 1982; the Down There EP that preceded it some eight months earlier; the A and B sides of Steve Wynn’s 15 Minutes single from October ’81; and a slew of live and rehearsal sessions, plus two songs lifted from drummer Dennis Duck’s December 27, 1981, audition.
If Thomas’ liner notes are to be believed, the original Days of Wine and Roses album shared a fate similar to their main influence’s debut LP, 1967’s Velvet Underground & Nico: Though it failed to sell in great numbers, everyone who bought a copy formed a band or, if already in one, found inspiration in its grooves—most notably the Pixies and Nirvana, both of whom borrowed from the Dream Syndicate’s loud-soft-loud approach. Whether that’s true is impossible to say—but Days is a remarkable document all the same. It represents a potent strain of American music, aka the so-called “college rock” of the 1980s, in its infancy.
If you’ve never heard the album, do yourself a favor and play it—it’s available to stream everywhere, I think. It’s a guitar-rich manifesto, with lead guitarist Kurt Precoda coming off as Dave Davies one moment and Mick Jones the next. The communique is more than just that, however, due to Steve Wynn’s steady rhythm guitar, Dennis Duck’s driving beats and Kendra Smith’s innovative bass lines. Wynn’s lead vocals are a treat, too; at times, he conjures Lou Reed (or is that Doug Yule?!), Bob Dylan and, especially on “Until Lately,” David Byrne. He sounds detached, to be sure, but that’s part of the charm. It’s an “essential” album if ever there was one.
Here’s a phenomenal live take on “That’s What You Always Say” from July ’82:
The four-CD set includes a bevy of additional tracks, as mentioned above. They may be a bit much for neophytes on first listen, no doubt, but longtime fans should enjoy them. The live tracks make me wish I’d seen them back in the day—though, in my defense, I would’ve been too young for the 21-and-over clubs in Philly. An in-depth history of the album from Thomas is also included; it features insights from Wynn, Smith and fellow travelers plus cool pictures and related ephemera, such as an old flier advertising a gig with the Salvation Army and the Bangs. Its main flaw, which is one shared by the otherwise stellar The Dream Syndicate: How Did We Find Ourselves Here? documentary: the absence of Precoda. He was an integral member of the band in those years, so his lack of participation is all the more noticeable. Perhaps he’s closed the book on that time in his life—if so, it’s a true shame.
All in all, the four-disc set was less a revelation to me than a confirmation: Every era has stellar artists and bands that fail to catch on with the mainstream, after all. Still, it’s a dense collection (four hours and 18 minutes) that should appeal to Dream Syndicate fans old and new. I heartily recommend it. This is the sound of a band daring to be different at a time when conformity was king.
The track list:
The Old Grey Cat 
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