(Translated from my original Italian text by ChatGPT and Piero Scaruffi)

Buffalo Tom emerged in Boston during the late ’80s post-punk "restoration." Less eccentric, less brilliant, and perhaps less sincere than their mentors Pixies and Dinosaur Jr, Bill Janovitz (vocals and guitar), Chris Colbourn (bass), and Tom Maginnis (drums) might have belonged to mainstream guitar rock, but they arrived in the wrong era. Their early records are linear, if not for the guitar distortions and rhythmic irregularities that seem forced, as if the band had been compelled by circumstances to adopt an intellectual tone.

Their first album, Buffalo Tom (SST, 1989), is an almost blatant plagiarism of Dinosaur Jr. Sunflower Suit, Reasons Why, and In The Attic would be simple folk-rock ballads if they weren’t buried under guitar feedback and drumming bursts. Relax the grip a little, and the music slips into pop, crafting melodic gems like Impossible.
Push individual elements a bit further, and a strongly hypnotic effect emerges, as in Racine, a simple melody grafted onto a sinister swampy boogie. In emphatic ballads like The Plank, the Dinosaur Jr school merges with that of REM, producing moments of high pathos. The harmonic range within which Buffalo Tom operates is fairly narrow, but within that musical space, they manage to paint songs (Sunflower Suit, Impossible, Racine) that even their mentors were not always capable of.

The band almost immediately abandoned the excesses of that sound, and their second album, Birdbrain (Beggars Banquet, 1990), veered toward soft and slow tones. For every Husker Du–style "pop and thrash" track like Birdbrain and Directive, there is a nervous, solemn ballad (à la Neil Young) like Enemy or Fortune Teller to temper the electricity with bluesy, anguished tones. All around, polished tributes to tradition shine, from the psychedelic pop of Caress (one of their peaks) to the folk-rock of Crawl, from the ragged Dylan-esque flow of Bleeding Heart (perhaps the best song on the album) to the acid-rock of Jefferson Airplane glimpsed in Baby.

Half of Let Me Come Over (Beggars Banquet, 1992) is practically useless, because it keeps trivializing the same idea, but the other half still offers moments of great emotion in the spirit of lively rock and roll (especially Velvet Roof, perhaps their masterpiece), first-class roots rock (Larry), and increasingly catchy pop (especially Staples and Taillights Fade, two more of their peaks). Some songs are their best ever, while others are their worst ever.

The third album, Big Red Letter Day (East/West, 1993), is also inconsistent. Sodajerk and I'm Allowed echo the late-period Lemonheads, while Late At Night relies on Neil Young’s overused guitar progressions. Less and less violent, Buffalo Tom relegate themselves to the realm of compromise bands—those that pair electric jolts with delicate touches to excite and soothe at the same time.

Thanks to a fuller production and a more aggressive edge, Sleepy Eyed (Beggar's Banquet, 1995) recaptures the spirit of the band’s early days. At its best (Tangerine, It's You, Souvenir), it’s like hearing the fiery street ballads of Replacements and Husker Du all over again. Yet there are too many slow, romantic tracks, which drag the pace and ease off the album’s tension. The overall tone is soft and melodic, like mainstream rock (Kitchen Door, Sunday Night). The result is an album that punks may end up appreciating only once they’re retired.

Smitten (Beggars Banquet, 1998) delivers classic rock and roll at its most timeless—think the late Byrds and countless country-rock bands—telling tales of broken dreams (and hearts). Rachael and Under Milkwood provide tender interludes, while White Paint Morning is perhaps the most electrifying track of the lot.