“It’s Not The End Of The World”: A Brief Tommy Keene Retrospective
GUEST POST: R.E. Seraphin
Tommy Keene died nearly seven years ago and, in the meantime, his legend has sadly not grown much.
Despite being a musician who is routinely included in conversations about artists who should’ve been big (but crucially weren’t), there has been no definitive retrospective and, other than a wonderful piece by Esquire’s Dave Holmes (“Tommy Keene Should Have Been Bigger. But He Didn't Need to Be.”), not many major publications have bothered to write even a perfunctory tribute.
But I don’t think Keene would mind terribly much or, at least, wouldn’t gripe about it.
“It’s all a gift,” he once wistfully responded to a question about his somewhat meager audience. He was perennially hopeful and searching, often joking about making art rock a la Roxy Music or getting a surprise financial windfall in interviews—a sign he was not overly concerned with commercial appeal. In his words, he was committed to “[sticking] it out until the bitter end,” record sales be damned.
There are many unexplored angles to consider when evaluating Keene’s career.
He was part of the ‘80s new wave scene in D.C. that later birthed Dischord Records; he was a gay artist at a time when many underground musicians were still reticent to discuss sexuality (Tommy came out in 2006); he was an indie rock elder statesman, signed to Matador Records during the Yo La Tengo and Sleater Kinney-era who backed up Robert Pollard and Paul Westerberg. He didn’t make much ado about any of this history, though, and perhaps that’s why the rich subject matter of his life remains largely unexplored.
I've selected five songs that are not necessarily his best or best known (no “Places That Are Gone” here), but I think provide a glimpse into these various facets of his musical journey. This is my brief attempt to contextualize Tommy’s music in a non-fussy, non-chronological, and Keenesian way.
Tommy Keene In Five Songs by R.E. Seraphin
1. “Going Out Again”
Keene was the king of opening songs (“Places That Are Gone” and “Long Time Missing” to name two) and none are better than “Going Out Again,” the first salvo from his Matador debut Ten Years After.
This album marks the second phase of Keene’s career; finally free from major label shackles, he moved away from the anodyne production of his Geffen records and embraced a more raw, freewheeling sound. Generally speaking, he was a songwriter who could be relied upon to exceed the four and five minute mark—three verses, bridge, guitar solo, rinse, repeat. This is perhaps the closest he came to approximating a punk approach: a pared down lineup tearing through the shortest songs of Keene’s career. This song is 2:19 of crackly, crunchy guitars and sticky vocal hooks (and he still finds time for a bridge). A delight.
2. “End of the World”
I’m somewhat cheating with this selection because it’s not on any official release and not available for purchase in any capacity.
Nonetheless, this song is important to my relationship to Keene. I first discovered him through the 12XU bootleg reissue of Strange Alliance, Keene’s partially disavowed debut produced by future Fugazi engineer Ted Niceley. Subsequently, I did a deep dive and discovered a trove of unreleased demos from the Strange Alliance sessions on one of my all-time favorite blogs, Willfully Obscure. I believe these demos to be stronger than the Strange Alliance cuts, a sometimes brilliant album marred by a murky mix and a tentative-sounding Keene. In particular, I love the lyrical pithiness and crystalline, chorus-soaked guitar work of “End of the World”—a clear template for Keene’s later work.
3. “The Man Without a Soul”
Despite being typecast as a power pop progenitor, Keene was a masterful guitarist capable of playing a variety of styles.
This is something he proved as a gunslinger-for-hire for Velvet Crush, Gin Blossoms, and Matthew Sweet, among others. He was a self-described understudy of E-Street sideman Nils Lofgren and brother Mike Lofgren, who attended the same junior high in Maryland and ostensibly taught him how to play guitar. You can certainly hear the influence of both Grin and the Boss on this The Merry Go-Round Broke Down track—a propulsive, horn-filled rocker with an absolutely ripping guitar solo.
4. “Island of Lost Lucys”
Although a naturally strong performer, Tommy was never convinced he was a suitable focal point for a band.
In an interview with Magnet Magazine, Keene demurred that he lacked a “Michael Stipe character…or [a] Roger Daltry” to complete his rock n’ roll vision and simply made do with voice, which speaks to the level of pragmatism and humility he carried throughout his career. On the sole Keene Brothers album, Blues and Boogie Shoes, Tommy found his foil in Bob Pollard. The album is mostly successful—a true union of the Apollonian Keene and Dionysian Pollard—but at times the stiff, programmed drums and sterile recording ambience detract from the project. Accordingly, I find this mostly percussion-less torch song to be the clear highlight. And there is no better synopsis of Keene’s what-could’ve-been career than the one contained in this pre-chorus: “They're not even worth their weight in tears/But they sum up the years/when no one came around.”
5. “My Mother Looked Like Marilyn Monroe”
Keene’s lyrics could charitably be described as opaque and uncharitably described as impersonal.
Taking a cue from fellow queer power popper Pete Shelley, Keene mostly wrote in the first and second person to evoke universality and perhaps eschew matters of sexuality. But the “you” he refers to often feels unclear and distant and there is frequently an absence of place in his lyrics—a lack of concrete details that allow you to situate yourself within his narratives. Despite all of this, “My Mother Looked Like Marilyn Monroe” offers a strong rebuttal to my argument—a tribute to his deceased mother rife with stirring images (references to the “painted green” bar his mother was killed outside of, “the valley” she’s buried in). This is the quintessential Keene ballad: an earnest, pained retelling of a childhood memory enveloped by swathes of gorgeous, chiming guitars. For me, the most affecting moment in Keene’s discography is his desperate delivery of the title in the chorus.
R.E. Seraphin is a singer-songwriter based in Vallejo, CA. In 2020, he released his debut album Tiny Shapes, followed closely by the A Room Forever EP. Since then, he has released the Swingshift EP (2022) and his second album Fool's Mate (2024), the latter of which has inspired some to dub him the "uncrowned king" of modern power pop. When he's not playing music, he likes to develop recipes, go on walks with his daughter, and attempt to play chess.
Nice piece. I have a couple of Westerberg boots from the tour he did with Keene. Probably his best post-Mats tour, and it turned me on to Keene’s work, so I consider that a double win.
This is a great tribute. I share your fandom and dig that you picked less obvious tracks to highlight.
One thing though. Yes, Ted Nicely produced or co-produced some Fugazi material but the primary engineer on virtually all their stuff was Don Zientara, who recorded them at his Inner Ear Studio.