(Translated from my original Italian text by ChatGPT and Piero Scaruffi)
The Eggs were formed in Arlington, Virginia, by Andrew Beaujon. During their brief career, the Eggs established an original style of lo-fi pop that experimented with harmonic structures worthy of progressive rock, falsetto vocals reminiscent of soul, and horn sections in the spirit of rhythm and blues.
Their album Bruiser (TeenBeat, 1991) oscillated between Husker Du-style punk rock, My Bloody Valentine-style dream pop, and Sonic Youth-style noise rock. The trios defining traits were the frenetic yet restrained strumming of the guitar and the melodies that were hummed more than sung, almost whispered. Their way of playing is a form of controlled improvisation from which virtuosity is excluded. Its a device that works equally well for crafting dreamy tales (It's Hard To Be An Egg), surreal ballads (Ebenezer), clownish novelty (President), or apocalyptic liturgies (This Party Never Ends). The instrumental Spaceman is an exemplary essay in guitar psychedelia; Hippie Purple pushes the same concept to dizzying tribal levels. The Eggs hit the mark especially in their own personal take on bossa nova, soft and light in John's Bar Mitzvah and feverish in the small masterpiece Ocelot (their first single).
The songs address the disappointments of Generation X, forming a small generational portrait in their own way (Don't wanna be in your world / I've done nothing to deserve it is the works motto).
After replacing David Parks with Evan Shurak, losing drummer John Rickman (not replaced), and adding Rob Christiansen (guitar and trombone), in 1993 the band caused a sensation with a series of oddly arranged singles, from the soft psychedelic sound of Sexual Tension (Jade Tree) to Roll Away The Stone, worthy of a soundtrack, and another effervescent bossa nova, Erin Go Bragh. Beaujon essentially started over, refounding the trios sound with a more sophisticated style.
The monumental Exploder (TeenBeat, 1993) employs an arsenal of exotic instruments, as well as synthesizers and oboe. In the decadent liturgies of Why Am I Tired All The Time (almost a Sweet Jane) and Evanston, the Eggs prove themselves craftsmen of eccentric pop in the vein of Van Dyke Parks and the late Beach Boys. The 60s flavor permeates particularly the catchiest choruses, Ampallang with its rough country-rock twang, and Willow Willow, sweet to the verge of beat. From the soulful lament in Prince style with orchestral arrangement in A Pit With Spikes to the understated chanting over a background of electronic disturbances in Maureen's Beans, the Eggs display eclecticism and genius with few rivals (just Pere Ubu and the Pixies). The trombone is omnipresent, with atmospheric interventions.
These flowing, melodic songs are actually constructed following the most whimsical processes. Beaujon manages to guide impossible melodies like Claire's Snares, to stretch delicate Broadway-style ballads like Rollercoaster, to tame the clownish bacchanalia of Saturday's Cool, and to play with the contrast between majestic noise and anemic lament in Salsa Garden. A shrewd (and often drunken) conductor, Beaujon knows how to exploit the swing of vehemence and sweetness of Soul Asylum in Conchita or the subtler tone of the Rolling Stones in The Obliviist (lead single).
How Do You Like Your Lobster (TeenBeat, 1995) collects the singles, along with unreleased tracks and rarities.
Christiansen later moved to the Grenadine and then formed Viva Satellite to score the classical work Nishma (TeenBeat, 1996).
Alongside Pavement, Unrest, and a few others, the Eggs rank among the great innovators of 1990s rock songwriting.
(Original English text by Piero Scaruffi)
Andrew Beaujon's first solo album,
A Raw Boned June (Teenbeat, 1998), displays both his creative crooning
and his creative arrangements. Truer Than The Wheel would have been
an Eggs classic. But too many of his songs rely more on the (witty but not
groundbreaking) lyrics than on his (exceptional) musical talent.
The Twist Of Separation, Andy and Angry Canadians
are amusing stories that employ tricks inherited from the tradition of
novelties and the vaudeville.
Ultimately, Beaujon comes through as a grown-up
Jonathan Richman or a
more polite Frank Zappa, or simply as the serious half of the
They Might Be Giants.
Rob Christiansen launched Sisterhood of Convoluted Thinkers (Darla, 1999), a weird collection of pop tunes and retro' instrumentals.
