It was supposed to have been so easy for The Wedding Present; simply assume the mantle of guitar-centric, irony-clad morosity cast off by The Smiths in 1987.  As Morrissey, Marr, and the other two imploded, leaving a gaping wound in the corpse of melodic, janglepop navel-gazing, David Gedge's Wedding Present seemed on the verge of being Britpop's next big thing.  On the basis of a few independently released singles, the band was championed by the New Musical Express and DJ John Peel.  The "Weddoes" arrived on the scene with a startling mix of shimmery arpeggios, buzzsaw rhythm guitars, hooks galore, jackhammer drumming, and a lead singer/lyricist with an uncanny ability to articulate just how massive a pain in the butt love is, how much it hurts, and how he can't stop jumping headlong into it, over and over again, even though he knows how it's all going to end; all while laughing at himself for behaving this way.

Cheeky songs with titles like "Everyone Thinks He Looks Daft, "What Did Your Last Servant Die Of," and "Why Are You Being So Reasonable Now?" charmed post-modern indie solipsists across the UK.  Poised for international stardom, The Wedding Present rose to the occasion by calling their 1985 debut album George Best.  Huh?  Who's George Best?  For those of us who didn't follow British soccer in the 60's and 70's, George Best was an Irish footballer who was Manchester United's greatest player ever, until David Beckham.  The cover art was simply a photograph of Best on the field.  It said nothing to listeners outside of the UK.  It seemed as if Gedge and the Weddoes were doomed to cult status in England.  Unstable lineups, an album of Ukranian/Russian folk music, and a recording contract that allowed the band to simultaneously release albums for its major label and still release singles independently made it difficult to follow the band and buy its music (12 limited edition singles in 12 months that were out of print almost as soon as they were released).

As members of The Wedding Present came and went, the band eventually morphed into the Gedge-led Cinerama by the late 90's.  When Gedge's longtime girlfriend left both him and the band he relocated from the UK to Seattle, and the Cinerama songs he'd been working on turned into an emotionally diverse song cycle about love and lust, both lost and found, told from a self-deprecating cynic's point of view.  In other words, Gedge had a full-fledged Wedding Present album.  In 2005, twenty years after the release of their first album, The Wedding Present released their seventh album, Take Fountain.

Take Fountain opens with the extended version of "Interstate 5," a droning, chiming, one chord, krautrock-inspired, guitar heavy track about a bitter, jilted lover taking a road trip, but still wanting to be near home, just in case his beloved should change her mind.  Think Stereolab's "Jenny Ondioline" meets Joy Division's "She's Lost Control" meets Ennio Morricone with a motorik beat -- the song fades out with an extended spaghetti western instrumental passage.  What follows is similarly strong -- ranging from janglepop hooks to slashing power chords, Gedge delivers a collection of songs about love and lust for adults, where relationships are never black or white or forever, but rather, exist in those frightening spaces between ecstasy, neuroticism, exhiliration, and regret.

Standout tracks include, "I'm from Further North Than You," where Gedge asks, "How did one crazy night turn into six weeks?"  And at the end of this dalliance, concludes, "I admit we had some memorable days, just not many."  The set slows down for the sublime post-breakup rationalization of "Mars Sparkles Down On Me."  Mood shifts as the set transitions to the paranoia of "Ringway to Seatac," where on the way to the airport Gedge almost pleads, "we've got one last chance to have an argument."  "It's for You" is a punkish fuzz bass excursion into vitriol that could easily be mistaken for the Fall (and that's a good thing).  Take Fountain closes with "Perfect Blue," a love song that Gedge, in his lyrics, admits, "sounds drippy," but he continues anyway to marvel at how someone so perfect could want to be with him.  The track begins with just Gedge and an electric guitar, then drums, bass, strings coalescing, building to Gedge's guitar slashing above the orchestration and concluding with a gorgeous cacophony fading out in a beautiful drone.

Distilled to its purest essence, The Wedding Present's Take Fountain delivers what is all too rare in contemporary rock -- intelligently-written, well-played, perfectly-produced love songs for smart grownups who understand the wide spectrum of emotions that romantic and post-romantic relationships encompass.  I cannot recommend Take Fountain highly enough; this is a sublime collection of great songs.  After too long a hiatus, David Gedge's multivalent songwriting and singing sound his call for serial monogamists everywhere to unite and have a good laugh and cry at themselves.