I was listening to 311 the first time I ever got sun-poisoning. Along with a cooler of Bud Ice, my girlfriend and I headed to the beach with my recently acquired 311 CD – the band’s 1995 self -titled multi-platinum release that included the hit singles “Don’t Stay Home,” “All Mixed Up,” and “Down.” 311 had been one of the twelve CD’s that I had chosen as part of my “free” introductory offer from Columbia House, and it was the CD that I deemed worthy of going to the beach with us. The shitty beer was a product of youthful stupidity and a sale at the Tom Thumb convenience store that was on the way to Pensacola beach. My youthful stupidity also manifest itself in the fact that, although I had grown up in Florida, I thought that it was a good idea to not put on sun block. Lack of protection, many adjunct lagers later, and the smooth, chill, yet not-contradictory high energy sounds of 311 all helped ensure that the beach trip ended up being momentous and, a day later, painful. My back was toasted.
Over the years, 311 has been a musical act that has inserted itself into my life – in good ways. In 2002, while living in Atlanta, I saw the band in concert. Great show. Whenever I hear of new albums from the 311, I always look forward to hearing the result, and am generally pleased. That being said, 311 is mainly a band from my past, and my almost-middle-aged friends and I have immediate responses ranging from reminiscences about good times, to admiring chuckles, to nostalgia, to “man, that was a good band! I need to remember where I put that CD,” and everything in-between when this band from our late-teens and early twenties is mentioned. For the record, while preparing for this review, I did some highly scientific field research and mentioned 311 to a few friends. The overwhelming response was positive. The band elicits as strong a visceral response as most other bands from our past. Now, this entire paragraph may be an unfair way to begin a review, but visceral responses are important to music, and art in general. Part of the power of music is found in its ability to connect us to specific moments in our life, and 311 apparently has a good place in many people’s memory; it does in mine. And, so, when my editor asked who wanted to review Stereolithic, (or the stylized numeric version Ster3o1th1c), I jumped at the opportunity.
The band’s latest release, Stereolithic, was recorded in 311’s own studio and produced by the band’s own label. At first listen, Stereolithic has a more mature sound than previous 311 records. The lyrics are more self-reflective, and the music itself, while still the band’s patented mix of reggae, funk, ska, and rock with a little hip-hop thrown in, is a little more grounded than previous outings. The guitar riffs are a little bigger and crunchier than I expected from a 311 record. The “rock” presence in Stereolithic is definitely present, but without losing the funky dance groove that attracted many of us to 311 to begin with.
With the track “Ebb and Flow,” Stereolithic opens with a declaration that 311 has their feet firmly planted in rock and roll, but without giving up too much ground and losing sight of their multiple influences. Subtly interwoven into the classic rock riffs are the band’s danceable jazz and reggae, along with some adroit rapping. The thematically darker lyrics quickly distill any notions that this will be a party anthem album. The protagonist of “Ebb and Flow” is the 311 fan from the mid-late 90’s who believed that life as a party would continue. There is a sense of resignation as the landscape is surveyed and the delusion of youth is laid bare – “Growing old with hearts of stone.” From the opening moment of the album, the listener knows that 311 has grown up.
But, no worries; the album doesn’t devolve into nihilistic bleakness. The resignation from “Ebb and Flow” transitions into a confession of hopefulness in the song “Five of Everything.” To be sure, the hopefulness is tempered with the realization that things seem to remain the same. The music does a good job of contrasting any temptation to move to bleakness that’s in the lyrics; not in an anachronistic way, but in an integrated emotional way. The song is more traditional 311 than “Ebb and Flow,” but still reflects the more mature sound of the now middle-aged 311.
As much as I’d love to go track by track, I don’t have the space (the album contains fifteen songs), so, fast forward to my favorite track on Stereolithic, “Simple True.” The band has produced an imminently danceable funk groove that’s complimented by crunchy rock guitars. I could prove that the “Simple True” is danceable by providing video of me and my kids dancing to the track, but I decided against it. Thematically, “Simple True” continues the record’s predominant motif of realization and resignation about the unexpected nature of the world found upon waking up from youth, but “Simple True” is one of Stereolithic’s most overt statements of optimism – “We’ve got much too do/no excuses.”
While Stereolithic contains fifteen songs with no duds among the tracks, I do want to briefly highlight three other tracks. “Revelation of the Year” is a reggae infused classic-rock anthem that contains shades of some of the great funk-rock and boogie-rock bands of the 70’s, like War and Foghat. It’s the type of song that you’re going to want to turn up the volume and roll the car windows down while you listen. If you prefer your 311 to be a more chillin’ on the beach kinda groove, “Sand Dollars” will get you there. The track even includes a reference to sunburns; a fact that makes me sad. If “Sand Dollars” had been on 311’s next album, I would have taken full credit for the lyrics about sunburns. Finally, one other highlight of Stereolithic is found among the smooth jazz and reggae riffs of “Make it Rough.” The song takes advantage of some of the best harmonies on the album complimented with excellent guitar work.
Above, way above, I wrote about the visceral response generated by 311, and I briefly mentioned its importance. The smiles and admiring chuckles that ensue when people my age are queried about the band speaks to the ability of the 311’s music to help craft larger narratives. And this can’t be chalked up to mere nostalgia, either. There are many other bands from that “era” that generate embarrassed groans and a grudging admittance to once owning the CD. 311 appears to have an endearing place in people’s memory, but, for some reason, is often relegated to music of the past, which is unfair. Stereolithic is an album that you won’t regret buying. For me, as a renewed 311 fan, I expect that as the band learns to harness their musical maturation with their new-found freedom as an independent artist/band that 311’s future offerings will be even more artistically robust than Stereolithic. In the present, I encourage my old friends to trust their memories, and give 311 a fresh listen; if you are lacking memories connected to 311, Stereolithic is a great place to start.
Rating: 3.5/5
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