Camper Van Beethoven's Key Lime Pie Record Is the Story of a Nation Crumbling Under Reagonomics
The Best Record of 1989 Day 51: #30 Camper Van Beethoven, Key Lime Pie vs. #99 Ice-T, The Iceberg/Freedom of Speech... Just Watch What You Say!
Good morning!
Today we’re taking a quick look at records from Camper Van Beethoven and Ice-T
Note: As many of you know, I recently wrote about a Best Record of 1989 challenge and noted that I'd occasionally write some of these up.
I've started doing some quick hits of each matchup and posting them directly to the page. Some will be longer, some won’t, and some might just be a handful of sentences. There'll probably definitely be some typos.
Check 'em out and let me know your thoughts! Chin wags and hot takes are welcome! Sharing and restacks are always appreciated.
KA—
Growing up, one of the guys on my block lived in a house with a basement. You have to understand that this was relatively unusual in Oregon. You also need to know that it had its own entry, separate from the rest of the house, which, of course, meant it was the default place for all of us to hang out.
All well and good, except that my friend also played guitar. Yeah, that guy. We all know one. Worse, he’d often play it to impress girls on the rare occasion they stopped by. This is how I first heard Camper Van Beethoven’s cover of “Pictures of Matchstick Men.” Not a strong start, but for better or worse, this was the band for me growing up.
This record was also the sound of Camper Van Beethoven growing up—not gracefully, exactly, but white-knuckling it through the end of the 80s like the rest of us. If Our Beloved Revolutionary Sweetheart was the band getting serious, Key Lime Pie is them getting mean; not in a cruel way, but with the kind of sardonic clarity that only comes after you've watched the Reaganomics tear apart the American Dream brick by brick.
By 1989, the band was peeling away their own layers. Jonathan Segel was gone. David Lowery had taken the wheel, and the group's weirdness started to harden into something leaner and a bit darker. The violin remained, but now it ached. The jokes hadn’t vanished, but now, they came with shadows instead of a wink and a nudge. Irony no longer softened the blow; it was the hammer delivering it.
But that’s what makes this record the gem it is. Say what you will about this style shift, but Key Lime Pie is an honest, beautiful, and impossibly human album. The songs aren’t necessarily sad in the normal sense—they're quietly devastating. It may take a few years and the benefit of hindsight to realize.
Listening feels like looking directly into the souls of people on edge, or even standing at the edge. It can be humbling, and it's quite a counter to the demanding style of patriotism that was so in vogue.
Musically, Key Lime Pie is a masterclass in restraint. It's still unmistakably them—strange little chord changes, unexpected melodic sidequests, and eerie violins—but it’s more grounded. Michael Urbano’s drumming is the most conventional thing on the whole record, giving the songs the structure they need. Pedal steel threads through tracks, especially on "Borderline" (my personal favorite) and “Sweethearts.”
And before I forget, the run from “Sweethearts” through “Borderline” is one of the strongest 4-track runs going.
The band sounds tighter, but not sanitized. They’ve ditched the genre-hopping of earlier albums and focused the chaos into something more purposeful. There’s Americana here, but it’s postmodern Americana.
Lyrically, Lowery is at his best here. There’s less snark, more ache. “Sweethearts” paints Ronald Reagan as a puppet for state-sponsored violence and capitalism, but it’s delivered with enough subtlety that you almost miss it.
“When I Win the Lottery” may be the best song ever written about bitterness as a survival strategy. It’s funny, but not ha-ha funny. It’s incredible line-level writing from the POV of someone like the guy at the end of your local bar; the one who’s seen some things.
The whole album walks the line between love and futility, beauty and decay, hope and despair—nihilism. This is a portrait of a broken America song by characters who’ve watched the American Dream collapse under its own weight.
It’s a record about America, sure. But more than that, it’s about people navigating what America does to you. People leaving, people drinking, people stuck in laundromats or backwater towns with only Swap Shop or gospel on the radio. People literally and figuratively stuck on the side of the road. Still, it’s the most empathetic album they ever made (we can use that, too). It doesn’t punch down; instead, it meets its characters where they are.
Despite my less-than-auspicious onramp to the band, this album has never really left my rotation. Very rarely do I play it and not find something new.
You can call it alt-rock, Americana (maybe), or whatever you want—it’s eclectic enough that pretty much anything will fit. But again, it’s just one of the most human records of the year. That sort of thing never goes out of style. It’s always relevant.
Gather ‘round, kids: It’s time to tell you the story of who Fin Tutuola used to be.
Shame that an entire generation only knows Ice-T from his portrayal of a cop on Law & Order. How odd it is to remember that the same guy now flashing a badge used to flout—and run afoul of—the law. This is, after all, a guy who was also almost arrested in Georgia for the high crime of swearing onstage. Such was the climate at the time. It’s all enough to catch a case of the vapors.
In 1989, Ice-T was still a rapper who put hot girls and guns on his covers. He sang songs about power, and how it started “with P like p***sy.” He swore. A lot.
Meanwhile, the Parents Music Resource Center was busy being busybodies and decided that someone should think of the children! Think Maude Flanders but with Congress’s ear. Ice-T made the perfect target. He rapped about all the things supposedly tearing this country apart, and he was popular.
Ice=T wasn't about to give an inch, and if you were to condense a review of The Iceberg/Freedom of Speech...Just Watch What You Say down to a line or two, it’s that he made a whole-ass record doing just that. It was a baker's dozen worth of tracks, and all of them were a raised middle finger to anyone with the audacity to decide what was best for anyone.
You can have your endless reruns of Law & Order SVU; I prefer this version of Ice-T.
My vote: Ice-T fought hard against Tipper Gore and co., but he’s no match for David Lowery. It’s Key Lime Pie all day for me.
Any thoughts on either of these records? Agree/disagree with my takes? Which one of these would you vote for? Sound off in the comments!
Check out the full bracket here.
Info on the tourney, voting, and more is here.
As always, thanks for being here.
KA—
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I adore Key Lime Pie. I find it beautifully dark. That you for a wonderful read, Kevin.
Again, grad school. I had a friend introduce me to CVB and we ended up seeing them at an all-ages show at UW-Milwaukee while they were touring in support of Key Lime Pie. Great show!