The band Harvey Danger–they of the diabolically hummable “Flagpole Sittah,” for those of you who remember the ’90s–has made their new album available for download in its entirety on their website. This is a significant moment in music: a band who once enjoyed some significant time on the charts tells the record industry to go screw itself. I’m very curious to learn how the experiment works.

My guess is it’s going to sell lots of albums for them–not just the new one that folks like me will buy even though it’s available for free, to support the band and the idea; but also their earlier albums, as folks (also like me) who had little experience with the band previously feverishly mine their back catalog to see if their older albums are as good as this one.

And it is quite good. Its Ben Folds-ish, piano-heavy sound is certainly much more mellow than the sneering snarl of “Flagpole Sittah,” but the lyrics are really the main star here. Loaded with irony, clever turns of phrase, unusual imagery, and deliciously dense and unorthodox rhyme structure, they will renew your faith that there are indeed still smart people making music out there.

So check it out. You have literally nothing to lose except the time you spend downloading the album. Who knows, you may find more than a little to like. If you do, please help reward the band for their daring by either buying the physical album or contributing whatever you feel it’s worth to you. And if you don’t like it, pass the download link on to anyone you know who might.

I love this idea. I would do it myself if I felt I had half the exposure of Harvey Danger; the irony is that my band, which has been unorthodox from the very start, will likely require a slightly more traditional approach to releases–at the beginning, anyway. I don’t know, maybe once I finally get around to releasing an album’s worth of material (probably looking at another six months minimum at this point, folks) I may feel differently. But mark my words, this is the way the music industry will operate in 10 years. And now you can say you were there when the tide turned.

And now for another trip down memory lane.

“Streak”

Predatory humans come
prepackaged in a city of lights,
depressing cityscapes,
a habitat unnatural.
They sustain a diet of a
sadomasochistic design
by plugging in to
TV talk shows and infocommercials.
Some kind of fear reaction
causes them to group together
and look for weaker things to ridicule.
Meanwhile, imaginary, monetary deities
are prayed to daily in the public schools.

So, handle with care; the zoos are getting full.
These hairless monkeys can be unpredictable.
Please don’t feed the animals;
we’ve got to keep them weak.
Don’t want to fuel that vicious streak.

Predatory humans come
imprisoned in a city of steel.
They circle through a maze
of meaningless and mindless routine.
Slaved to a runaway technology,
they’re chained to the Wheel
and dragged along behind
the juggernaut of Industry.
Some portion of the population
tries to keep the peace
as government just falls to pieces.
The opportunist carnivores
begin the feeding frenzy,
but the prey has already
been swept to sea.

The story: The idea was to write a song from the point of view of an alien reporting on a visit to Earth. I know. I know, OK?

The verdict: You sort of have to hear the song to understand that it’s not quite as overwrought as it appears, simply because the lyrics are delivered with such a machine-gun pacing. I do have to say that “Slaved to a runaway technology, they’re chained to the Wheel / and dragged along behind the juggernaut of Industry” is probably one of my favorite lyrics of mine, not so much for the content as for the actual structure; it’s just so much fun to say. Seriously, try it.

The trivia: This song was first released on an LP compilation called Viva La Vinyl, put out by our friends at Dead Beat Records (the first people to ever put whatever… on vinyl, with the Deep 7-inch). This was the first in what became a four-part series, and in my opinion is still the best, if only for the fact that they were able to snag so many up-and-coming bands that ended up moving on to greatness. I mean: J Church. Bouncing Souls. Tilt, for Pete’s sake. It’s a great comp, and I’m pretty sure you can still buy it here.

The legacy: Honestly? None that I’m aware of.

Oh boy, are you folks in for a treat. Here’s an oldie but angry:

“Good Question”

Your instruction is selective;
it makes me wonder what it’s for
if it just adds mortal fuel
to this building moral war.
We hear echoes of faith
in shouts of anger and contempt,
noises of derision from the heaven-sent.
Tradition, indecision, blasphemy to ask for proof –
you use God-given minds to blind yourselves,
twist words for your own use,
but the religion that you preach
inside these holy halls of truth
is just oppression when it’s forced upon our youth.

It’s such a simple thing
just to believe without a thought,
spitting back the tired words
along with faith that you’ve been taught.
And this prejudice is natural,
it all comes out the same:
all the infidels and heathens
are distrusted in His name.
Divide the population
between the righteous and the damned
until the holy war is over
and not a single sinner stands.
If you hold the keys to heaven,
I’m sure I’ll find myself in hell
because I will not pay blood money
for salvation that you sell.

Do you think that if your god were here today
he would approve
of laying claim to some exclusive paradise?
I’m not seeking absolution
or forgiveness for some crime.
I’m not buying into your exclusive paradise.
Not this time.

Compassion for unfortunate,
compassion for the poor,
while the gold inside your churches
could feed all these mouths and more.
Donations are accepted,
call the number on your screen.
This compassion isn’t all that it would seem to be.
Professions of allegiance
to an institution lie,
forcing words into my mouth
to build a violent storm inside.
Cast the first stone to condemn me
for a different point of view,
but it seems to me the Son of Man
was a nonconformist, too.

The verdict: This was the first song on our second tape (yes, I said “tape”), Shallow– so, maybe a year or two into the band’s run — and I don’t know that I ever wrote an angrier song. Can you tell I went to twelve years of Catholic school?

The trivia: For some utterly unfathomable reason, this song led some people to think Whatever was a Christian band. Now, I don’t know about you, but when I read over those lyrics, I don’t think, “Gee, this sure is uplifting.” But I think my capitalization of “Him” and the reference to the “Son of Man” was all some people noticed. In truth, it was just being, you know, familiar with the terms. It still boggles my mind, though.

The legacy: I will never live down the screams of “Oppression!” after the first verse in the recording. Friends and family never tire of singing those lines in various interpretive styles, including one set to the tune of “Tradition” from Fiddler on the Roof.