No regrets

Puddle fade away with Codenapity

by John O'Neill

Puddle, Wormtown's once-bright punk hopefuls, head into this weekend on an abbreviated record release/farewell tour, leaving us with a lot of unfulfilled promise; a handful of great releases;

and, upon listening to their final baby, Codenapity (Apostrophe Records), the unsettling feeling that it is indeed time to say good-bye. Somehow, in eight years, they went from the Little Band that Would (make us proud, go national, save our souls) to the Little Band that Couldn't (get a good gig, harness a following, earn respect beyond the critics' circle, sell an album) to finally rest as the Little Band that Couldn't Care Less.

The early shows were electric, barely-in-control, balls-out affairs that only a band of pissed-off kids could deliver. And when their first release, They All Began with A . . ., arrived, it was the sledgehammer to the squash that Wormtown desperately needed. It proved to the world that our little hamlet had a band as good and as vital as Hüsker Dü or the Replacements or (dare it be mumbled) those upstarts Nirvana. It certainly appeared, for that two-year window, anything was possible for the trio of Dave Parent, Gregg Olson, and Tom Woundy. The Questions, Answers and Questions Again EP was a second gem, solidifying their standing as an up-in-coming band. But when Olson left the group for Big Sky country (he rejoined Puddle briefly, then left again), the winds of possibility immediately stopped blowing -- and Puddle stopped believing.

"I knew with Gregg leaving it would never be like that again, and I was angry. I couldn't deal with it," says Parent, who, though the architect and brains of the group, realized Olson was their soul. "It almost broke up the band. I took a lot of stuff out on [then bassist] Scott Lee."

They continued to release surprisingly solid product, but the band seemingly went from angry young men to accusatory victims, as witnessed by the thinly veiled, autobiographical concept album Loner and later on the three-song EP Walking Around the Sun. Though still aggressive and abrasive, Puddle, specifically Parent's lyrics, sounded toothless and, in some instances, annoying. No longer kids, they continued railing against Parent's notebook full of childhood demons, not necessarily a pretty picture as you stare down 30. Puddle shows became infrequent, generally set around the release of new material and followed by another year of relative inactivity. Parent himself admitted to losing the zeal for playing live, his mission now focused on completing the song cycle he'd written out years ago. Once they were recorded, Puddle, it was announced some time ago, would disband. Which brings us to Codenapity.

Easily their strongest release since the giddy days of the first album, Codenapity (like Dricket, it's a word the band fabricated as a play on "codependency") is one more maddening reminder of how good they were capable of being. Longtime Puddle engineer of choice, Roger LaVallee is able to goose a little extra sound out of the boys, especially now that he isn't saddled with doubling-up as an extra hand in the studio. Parent and Woundy give their finest performances, and bassist Jim Quenneville is the complete player the band have always lacked. What he can't make up for in Olson's balls, he covers with superior technical proficiency. And the lyrics, while still introspective, have a more hopeful, less scornful tone to them. It's a perfect final statement from a band who had let themselves devolve from one of the true all-time Worcester greats into a one-man therapy session.

"You can totally call [my lyrics] self-absorption, the whole band is self-therapy and always has been," says Parent. "[When we were young] this was the only way we had to express ourselves."

"I had my own problems to deal with and we just fed off of each other," adds Woundy, reflecting on the Puddle experience. "We were all pissed-off and frustrated. For Dave, it was feelings towards his mother. For me, it was the same job for two years with no raise, and my boss was an asshole. The three of us sometimes didn't get along at all; but when we played . . . we were wrecking shit.

"Now I feel a little empty cuz [the band] is the only ritualistic thing I have in my life," Woundy admits. "I don't know if I can replace that. I don't know if I have the energy or enthusiasm [to start over in a band]. It scares me."

Puddle wheel themselves out for two final shows, beginning this Friday with a CD-release party for Codenapity at the Lucky Dog. Then on October 29, the curtain comes down on perhaps the most curious band to call Worcester home. That they never became more popular is unfathomable. That they never seemed to care about that fact was bothersome. Only now that the final act is written does it begin to make sense. Puddle were never meant for us. It was less a band and more a controlled experiment that has finally reached its completion. They can pack up satisfied, and we can look back on some fine moments and wonder "what if." It's a fair trade.

"The band for me has been a test of determination and having structured goals. I had to do it this way to see if the band would make it," Parent explains. "Not that it's been bad, my enthusiasm has just gone down by degrees. But still, I didn't quit. It's been blind determination to hit the end goal. The band isn't breaking up because of problems, it was just the plan. . . . maybe [Puddle] is an adult by sticking with it."