J. Geils Band, "Love Stinks"
Boston's white boy funksters straddle a line



Some people say “change is good,” while most people rightfully decry the concept of “change for the sake of change.” I’d like to think that Love Stinks, the J. Geils Bands’ 1980 official entry into new-wave credibility, fits the former maxim and not the latter.

At the dawn of the Reagan era, it would have been easy to dismiss this album as a sell-out, but it’s also entirely possible that Boston’s own white boy soul men ran their blues angle into the ground and were looking for a fresh sound. A “fresh sound” is certainly what listeners got when they dropped the needle onto the opening track, “Just Can’t Wait.” Keening synthesizers drive the song along, and vocalist/frontman Peter Wolf’s lusty pleas are egged on by guitarits J. Geils’ beautiful, hook-laden guitar solo. This is clearly a band with recharged batteries.

Not that the band’s old sound was anything to scoff at. Since their beginnings in the late 60s, Wolf, Geils, keyboard player Seth Justman, bass player Danny Klein, drummer Stephen Jo Bladd and the wonderfully named blues harp master Magic Dick forged a unique blend of bluesy swagger and party funk. Concert favorites like the self-explanatory “Detroit Breakdown” and their rousing covers of a variety of obscure blues chestnuts like “Serves You Right To Suffer” coexisted happily with the reggae-pop of “Give It To Me” and the hit ballad “Must of Got Lost.” It was almost as if new wave party anthems were just one more format these guys needed to master.

Obscure covers haven’t been abandoned with the new sound, though. Their version of the Strangeloves’ “Night Time” is here, and boy, does it cook – they sound like a young hungry bar band while tearing through this party starter.

Revisiting this album for the first time in many years (I picked up the CD last night), I was struck by how well it’s held up. Sure, the synths reach a sort of cheesy fever pitch during the second song (the discofied “Come Back,” a pure retro guilty pleasure in all its Jordache splendor), but that’s also what we love about Gary Numan’s “Cars.” If you want loud guitars and attitude, why not try the title track? Those of you only familiar with Adam Sandler’s “Wedding Singer” version (which I’ll admit, my ambivalent feelings towards Sandler aside, is pretty funny) will be pleasantly surprised at the energy and vitality of the original version. And while the title track’s guitar riff is a blatant rip-off of “Wild Thing,” you can’t deny its impact, or that of “Takin’ You Down,” another potent rocker on this long-forgotten album.

Love Stinks only deviates from the party atmosphere twice: “Desire” is the album’s sole ballad (and one that will perhaps grow on me, but in the meantime is a track I normally skip over), and “No Anchovies, Please,” is a hilarious skit that shows the boys have a sense of humor underneath all that boogie bluster.

Love Stinks was a local smash in Boston and on national rock radio, while serving as a springboard for what would be their biggest smash yet, 1981’s Freeze Frame (which would contain their only #1 pop hit, “Centerfold”). By the time that album was released, Justman pushed the band to a technology-obsessed critical mass, which had its moments, but for most fans (myself included) stepped over the line. Eventually Wolf left the band, they made one god-awful album without him, and promptly broke up.

Love Stinks shows Boston’s other bad boys straddling the line between snotty R&B bar band and cutting-edge pop nirvana the only way they can – with a whole lot of attitude.