After almost a decade, Barenaked Ladies's slow-and-steady wooing of America finally came to fruition this summer. Upon its June release, Stunt, the Canadian band's fourth full-length CD, debuted at number three -- not bad when you consider its predecessor, Born on a Pirate Ship, was a commercial disappointment. Stunt's success was buoyed by the ubiquitous single, "One Week," which turns an up-tempo, fairly routine relationship song into a freestyle rap that name-checks, among others, Sting, LeAnn Rimes and Andrew Lloyd Webber.
If anything, the fact that "One Week" went to number one in this country proves the Ladies's appeal extends beyond the wise-ass collegiate cult that has embraced the group from the beginning. Their show-stealing displays on the H.O.R.D.E. tour and their sublimely hilarious performance on the MTV Music Video Awards' pre-show broadcast only cemented the Ladies's status as one of the few legitimate breakthrough acts of the year.
Still, in light of the band's tepid track record south of the Canadian border in the past, Stunt's meteoric sales have to come as a shock to a band seemingly resigned to its quirky outsider status here.
"We had no idea," admits singer/guitarist Steven Page. "I thought maybe it would enter in the Top 30 or something. We had built up a pretty amazing fan base. And I thought all those fans would run out and buy the record and it would enter at number 30 and then disappear into oblivion. Now it's been in the Top Ten for 14 weeks; I think that means we've crossed over."
You could say that. Barenaked Ladies -- a band which also includes singer/guitarist Ed Robinson, drummer Tyler Stewart, bassist Jim Creegan and keyboardist Kevin Hearn -- have hung around the Top Ten longer than either Marilyn Manson or the Beastie Boys; as of last week, the album was in the number seven slot. Stunt's sales stamina may be due, in part, to the fact that the Ladies have figured out what it takes to become a priority concern at a major label -- in this case, Reprise.
"We went out and worked pretty hard doing the hand-shaking kind of thing before the record came out," Page says. "I think a lot of times record companies don't have artists who will agree to doing a lot of the glad-handing. But you make a record, and you want people to hear it. We certainly had the sense that this was the record that the record company was going to push for us. We went out and made the best record that we thought we had made -- at least in a long time, if not ever -- and we'd have hated for them to drop the ball on it and say, 'Well, you guys didn't go out and do what we asked you to do.' So we said, 'Fine, okay, we'll go out and shake some hands at some retailers' head offices, if that's what it takes.'
"[So] I just figured that meant [Reprise] wasn't going to give up on it if the thing didn't do that well. We're more used to that side of the equation than [the record company saying], 'This is our big record of the year.' "
Barenaked Ladies's patient formula for success is a glaring exception to the problems with artist development in this country. Most new acts these days are expected to hit the mark right out of the gate, or run the risk of being dropped for lack of immediate results. In the rare case when a band does have dead-on commercial aim, inflated expectations always accompany album number two. God forbid if that release doesn't outsell the debut (more often than not, sophomore releases don't), as it gives a label yet another excuse to send an artist packing.
The Ladies's Steven Page puts the issue into very real perspective by offering a hypothetical scenario of what might have happened to relative slow-starters U2 if they had first come around in 1998: "You think, jeez, October [U2's second album] didn't do so hot. So you dump them after October. Then they get re-signed and put out War on some Internet-only label, and that sells 15,000 copies and that's the end of that."
Don't scoff. A like fate could have easily befallen Barenaked Ladies -- possibly even in their homeland. While the band's first album, 1992's Gordon, sold 900,000 copies in Canada, its second, Maybe You Should Drive, sold only a third of that figure. But with each effort, the band stuck to its guns, alternating potshots and poignancy, hooks and hilarity, shtick and technical skill. Rather than cutting them loose, for whatever reason, Reprise opted to play its hunch.
"For our label -- or [Reprise parent company] Warner Bros., in general -- I think it is a part of their tradition," Page says.
But he's also skeptical of how long even the slightest bit of gambling on long-term potential will be al-lowed to continue at any label. "There are people who are not in the entertainment industry buying [record] companies. They are saying, 'Your bottom line this quarter was so bad that you are going to have to drop eight artists and fire a bunch of people.' Which kind of excludes the people like, the Van Dyke Parks of the world that made Warner Bros. so interesting a label to be on -- or Randy Newman or Ry Cooder or whoever else. They didn't necessarily sell tons of records, but they were part of the fabric of the label."
Page offers his take on how Barenaked Ladies fits into that tradition: "I think, frankly, we never got dropped because we sold lots of copies of our first record in Canada. We always sold just enough to recoup everything, but it sure looks nice for a label to say, 'We've got five albums with this band before they broke. And maybe it will set a precedent for other labels to go, 'Maybe it will take five records before they make it big.' "
But Page isn't naive enough to think that all bands would eventually prosper along the same gradual trajectory as Barenaked Ladies. The reason that there are so many one-hit wonders, he suggests, is that bands and labels focus every ounce of energy on trying to squeeze out a hit. "I think some of that has to do with bands only having one song, too," he suggests. "For us, it's not that hard because we write pop songs, basically. Essentially, I think any of [the tracks on Stunt] could be singles because they are within the constructs of pop music. That's what I like, that's what I listen to and that's what I try to write. I don't try and write singles; I don't try and write hit songs."
A hit, after all, can quickly wear out its welcome.
"You can definitely burn out on a song just because there are so many ways of hearing it now," Page says. "It's on every radio station -- and every radio station format is basically the same as the other, they're all playing the same music -- and you have videos. And then there's every movie preview [that] has 'How's It Gonna Be' by Third Eye Blind in it."
Of course, "One Week" has been as omnipresent as Third Eye Blind over the last few months, a fact that still stirs excitement in Page. Sure, Barenaked Ladies crossed over. And yeah, your mom might even sing along to "One Week" (at least, to the parts she can understand). But what Page finds so satisfying is that years from now, "One Week" will be forever tied to the summer of '98. Corny but true.
"We've certainly been building a fan base over time, and even if the people who liked us for the one song, if they drop off, we'll have a fan base that's bigger than when we came into this record," says Page. "I think it's going to be good for us in that way. I was so excited about having the big summer song. I think that's cool. We'll see if the follow up happens in a similar way. But, regardless, I think it was exciting that it was us. It seems so unlikely to me."
Page remembers vividly the moment he knew "One Week" was a hit: "I was walking down the street in Virginia Beach, and some guy in a convertible was driving down the street and it was pumping out of it. I thought that was cool. That was always my dream, was to hear someone cruising down the street with one of our songs blasting out of a convertible."
There was another defining moment for Page and the others, and it happened at the aforementioned MTV Video Awards.
"We walked up on stage and started doing our thing, and I thought, oh, this is great. We're finally cool," Page says. "And then Marilyn Manson walked up, and we were no longer cool."
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But the real clincher came later, while the Ladies were seated behind the Anti-Christ Superstar's entourage. And it couldn't have originated from a more unexpected source.
"[Mason's] dad was sitting right in front of us," Page says. "He turned around and is like, 'I may have produced the Anti-Christ, but I love you guys.' "
Words every musician longs to hear.
Barenaked Ladies perform Sunday, November 8, at the Aerial Theater at Bayou Place, 520 Texas. Showtime is 8 p.m. Tickets are $20. 629-3700.