I’m embarrassed to say I came to Spoon a little late. OK, more than a little late, like within the past year—and, yes, it’s even worse: that damn “I Turn My Camera On” song is what did it. I’m probably the type of person Spoon mega-fans hate. I know, because I’m usually on the other side. I usually scoff at people who have “Jesus, Etc.” on their mix CD but don’t know any other Wilco songs, or people that don’t realize Elliott Smith did something other than the song to which Richie Tenenbaum killed himself. But now I’m the one deserving to be scoffed at. But here’s the thing: I bought Gimme Fiction based on the one song (something I hadn’t done since junior high) and was somewhat underwhelmed. I liked it, but I didn’t love it. It took me digging into their back catalogue to figure out what all of the hubbub was about.

The song that got me interested in learning more about these guys was “Everything Hits at Once” from 2001’s Girls Can Tell, their third album and first for Merge Records. The brooding atmosphere, the piano doubled with the guitar, the vibes, keyboards and killer drums are all crisp and clear, but what’s really amazing is just how tight this band sounds. The word “tight” is thrown around a lot without much explanation, but if you ever need an example turn to this song: nothing is out of place, every instrument and sound has its own voice, but they all coalesce to create that not only sounds great, but it kind of swings too—as in, you could probably get away with dancing to it.

For me, nothing on Girls Can Tell can beat the simple, head bobbing pop of “Anything You Want,” a song that builds on the most uncomplicated (yet undeniably catchy) keyboard riff since Question Mark and the Mysterians’ “96 Tears.” Each instrument, the keyboard, the piano, and guitar all come in at their own time, but work together—no instrument takes off in its own territory or takes precedence over the other instruments, it’s a true musical conversation working to make a sunny, affecting pop song.

Delving even further back to 1997’s A Series of Sneaks, their one and only major label album on Elektra: the band may not sound quite as original or polished on this record, but the songs are nonetheless filled with brilliance. The songs are short, but not in a sketchy or demo-like manner, think more like the minute-and-change brilliance of songs on Guided By Voices’ Bee Thousand and Alien Lanes—but with better production values. “Car Radio” and “Utilitarian” are both short, riff-driven moments, with little bits of unusual production spread throughout. The fact that both clock in at under two minutes (the former being barely a minute-and-a-half) isn’t a detriment at all, as the band never loses focus of the pop backbone that’s making the song work.

Now listening to Gimme Fiction I can hear a band that has come a long way, that has matured (but not in the old-fart way, they’re not singing about their kids—yet) without losing the pop-smart songwriting and strong emphasis on instrumentation and production that made them great in the first place.

But I still really like that damn “I Turn My Camera On” song.

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