Every now and then I come across a certain notion: what if Oingo Boingo was secretly one of the greatest bands in history? I know that it’s a subjective question, but to listen to their music is to hear someone who was treating rock music like some grand orchestra, rich with a comic opera. There’s no wonder that Danny Elfman went on to become a genuinely great composer. He was always subversive, trying to do his best to make every facet some commentary. To isolate the instruments would tell one story while Elfman’s voice is itself expressionistic in its own wonderful and baffling way.
Then again, that’s what you get from a band who started their career as The Mystic Knights of Oingo Boingo, which was a performative troupe that sought to mix covers with their own original songs. For whatever reason (and marketability), they changed their name and transitioned into something even greater. In 1981, the band released their debut “Only a Lad,” which struck me as an album that The Talking Heads would make if they were 10% more fun. No offense to David Byrne, but his artistic intent always felt more important than whether or not you found his joke. That, and something that blew my mind when I read it, Oingo Boingo has traces of ska in them. It’s obvious when you hear it (“Controller”), but until then you just think it’s another flourish.
Before I go further, I will admit that there’s something about “Only a Lad” that feels novelty. This wasn’t a band that felt like they would be around by the 1990s. It’s evident by how their music could come across as mocking, at times too cynical to last. They were trying so hard that it felt like Elfman and co-composer/guitarist Steve Bartek would be like The Beatles and implode, too many ideas coming at once and the quirkier ones just driving them nuts. In fairness, they were defunct by 1995, but by then these two men were successful TV and film composers.
The truth is that I’m designed to love New Wave bands like this. They were the antiheroes to 80s pop, making early MTV into something much more vital and interesting. Oingo Boingo belonged to a class of musicians that included The Talking Heads and DEVO (my favorite of them all) that were quasi-punk in content but were too accomplished as musicians to ever settle for that. With “Only a Lad,” Elfman became a progenitor of social commentary through sarcasm that was downright fun. For as sick as “Little Girls” should be, its imitation of 50s love songs is brilliant once it gets to the second half. The satire is there, though Elfman demands that you understand the set-up and character-building first.
All 10 of these songs are, for lack of a better word, jokes. Even the cover of The Kinks’ “You Really Got Me” has a tongue-in-cheek quality that finds them laying on the over-produced vocals a little heavy. Elfman has an incredible range for a rock singer, managing to navigate deeper registers on “Little Girls” to something more resembling a nerd on “On the Outside.” He makes it all work, even though they feel designed to be the most disposable novelty songs imaginable. It’s a feature, not a bug that makes their heavier subject matter hit a lot harder and in some ways designed for your nerdy friends to be like “You don’t understand Oingo Boingo. ‘Only a Lad’ is a takedown of societal norms, asking us what our true value in these ideas are.” Speaking that there’s even a song where they attack their critics, i.e. some writers at Los Angeles Times (“Imposter”), it’s easy to find the piss and vinegar bubbling to the surface.
I bring this all up because this is an album that I find an easy time loving even if I’d argue that the tone can sometimes be tiresome. Elfman goes overboard with his vocal inflections at times that work as eccentric art, but the lesser songs (“What You See”) feel like filler. They’re good as songs on a debut album, but when you compare it to what works so impressively on the debut, you’re kind of hoping for a full-on masterpiece. Now I know they will have other great songs somewhere down the line. For now, I’m coming to terms with the strange fact that Oingo Boingo permeated culture enough. They were almost too critical of it to be successful enough for cameos in Back to School (1986) or a memorable music cue in Fast Times at Ridgemont High (1982): the latter set over footage of a mall shutting down.
That’s in large part because Elfman would proudly declare that he wasn’t part of any organization. He could be critical of them because he found the comedy in all of it. Even the cover, reminiscent of Boy Scouts iconography, had a comical bent to it, reflecting how warped and subversive the proceedings were about to become. And yet, one has to wonder if the satire always came across with proper recognition. Not a single one of the songs here can be called personal or genuine. They were all designed with so much humor that you can even argue that the guitar solo in “Little Girls” is laughing at the very concept.
But here’s the thing. It’s all so wonderfully crafted that I don’t care. This isn’t some joke band. There are layers upon layers to be found in Elfman and Bartek’s collaborations. I’m especially in love with what they do with the bass work, where Kerry Hatch has these melodic runs that ground the songs with something more subliminal. While the guitars are flamboyant and the horns are delightful punctuations, it’s the bass that sounds like it’s having the best time on the album, guiding the vocal track while knowing when to add a bouncing subtext.
In a lot of ways, I feel stupid for taking this long to see how much they’re rooted in ska. There are points on this album that feel reminiscent of the 90s third-wave ska movement, such as the spaced-out guitars, the overactive bass, and even a sense of humor. It’s weird how much Goldfinger I heard this time around, even if I’d argue that little actually sounds duplicated. It’s maybe the most underrated aspect of the music.
Though let’s get down to the music. “Little Girls” is one of their most famous songs for a good reason. It’s so upbeat and silly. Even Elfman’s voice has this bloated quality that lets you in on the joke. Despite becoming a major composer in the industry, this commentary on Hollywood’s tendency towards “younger girlfriends” definitely hits hard once you get to the breakdown towards the end where Elfman sings “Uh-oh, I’m in trouble.” The backing vocals are fun as well, going into these high-pitched jazz-inspired bops that only add to the personality right before he goes deep into a major growl as if conjuring his own delusions and justification for loving little girls.
To prove how wide their topics would reach, the second song “Perfect System” attacked the liberal system’s idea of a perfect world. Even if it’s another joyous number, the language (including a “Comrade” shout out), it gets to the heart of how absurd unity is when it’s often designed for only a few people. The same can be said for “Capitalism,” which takes a stance against it while commenting on the protestors’ ability to live comfortably in a small piece of luxury.
The titular song is maybe among their greatest achievements, a calling card for whatever was to come next. While presented in their aggressive, forward rock style (with a fun spattering of horns), it parodies the wild teen songs of the 1950s down to the fact of calling him Johnny. As the song suggests: he likes to burn things! This is easily the best example of Elfman using personality in the song, managing to hiccup at the right time, sounding reasonable when singing “abused, perhaps, a little bit confused.” He goes down the list of excuses for Johnny as to why he shot the old lady and ran over a man. He does so with this blasé sense of humor that makes you understand how terrible it is to believe in the “boys will be boys” school of thinking. Why do we keep letting Johnny destroy the world?
And, in one of the greatest moments, there is a choir arrangement for the breakdown that only adds to the humor, as if suggesting that religion will set him straight. Considering how it destroys the tempo of the song, it’s jarring in the best ways possible.
It's not his fault that he can't believe,It's not his fault that he can't behave,Society made him go astray.Perhaps if we're nice he'll go away,Perhaps he'll go away,He'll go away
The cherry on top of it all, the reason that I adore this band so much, is in the choice for a sharp snare that kicks in, leading to the chorus. It’s so loud and distinct as if performing a violent action. After all, the back half of the song does what all of the best Oingo Boingo does, which is to provide a thesis. Elfman has established that Johnny is “our responsibility” before attacking him directly, screaming as if from the bowels of hell about “Hey there Johnny boy, I hope you fry!” It’s clear that he has no sympathy for this psychopath and is condemning the actions… as he should.
On every front, it’s a masterpiece of a song down to his strange howling throughout that usually means longing, but in this case, sounds like he’s crying for justice. Whereas we interpret humor in Johnny shooting the lady in the leg (again, it’s in the way that Elfman sings it), it’s a sincere cry.
Elfman claimed that the album was made up of ideas he got while reading the newspaper. It makes sense, as this feels highly critical of the 80s excess culture. It was a time when self-awareness went out the window and problematic behavior was sold off as “boys will be boys.” While certain songs play more like endorsements than others (“Capitalism”), there’s this need to grapple with the song on a more personal level, to understand what is sincere and just designed for a very dark sense of humor.
There is something to be said for the album ender “Nasty Habits.” While it yet again comments on Hollywood’s younger girlfriend issues, it’s also one that seems to comment on bestiality and other strange kinks. It doesn’t shame, but by this point, Oingo Boingo’s overabundance of approaching everything with humor will either be too much or redundant.
With that said, I defy anyone to listen to this song and not see what Elfman’s immediate film score style was formed from. It honestly feels like the groundwork for Beetlejuice (1988) with the walking piano line and the quirky strings that sound like worms crawling over the production. Take out the vocal track entirely, and you’d be forgiven for thinking it was a demo for a Tim Burton movie. It’s uncanny. Thankfully, the vocal track is just as interesting and has a fun time playing with harmonies and tempo.
That’s what can be said most about “Only a Lad.” It’s not a lazy album at any point. It may at times be overbearing, but Elfman and Bartek are clearly wanting to make a sound that is layered with these small brilliant tendencies. It makes sense how they became master composers because “Little Girls” and “Only a Lad” especially have these small moments, maybe seconds long, that will surprise you. They will make you understand that with a few more albums they will have their own macabre sound, managing to be the wildest house band imaginable. For now, they were young kids full of wild energy, and you can’t deny that they have something going on. I’m glad that they could make it last, if just for a few more albums.
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