Twenty years ago, the Hold Steady fused bar rock with beat poetry for a simple tale of redemption that will forever be celebrated for its authenticity.
The first time I heard the Hold Steady’s Separation Sunday, I thought there must be some kind of mistake. This couldn’t be the band earning critical acclaim and making year-end lists. Who would want to listen to some guy scat-singing over bar music, especially this obscure kind that integrated blues guitar licks, organ notes, and tender piano chords as if it were all part of the same style?
That’s not to mention how uncomfortable the lyrics made me feel, with references to tattoos, drugs, banging, touching, screwing, tramps, hoodrats, original sin, and more. Mind you, I’m no prude and have no issue with these things individually—it was just how they slid off lead singer Craig Finn‘s tongue. He had a way of making even the banal sound filthy. Case in point, “Cattle and the Creeping Things” is crammed with way more abbreviated Bible verses than references to illicit activities.
I’ll admit that I was a little late to the party. Finn and his Boston College roommate, Steve Barone, formed Lifter Puller, an act that came together in the Twin Cities and went on to earn critical acclaim (not to mention connecting Finn with then-bassist Tad Kubler). Four years after that group dissolved, Finn, now in Brooklyn, connected with bassist Galen Polivka and formed the Hold Steady, which also included Kubler (now on guitar) and Bobby Drake on drums.
Their debut album, Almost Killed Me (2004), gained some traction, but their sound was vastly different, as it contained big riffs and not the angular attack of indie artists like Archers of Loaf and Modest Mouse. Listeners were thrown into this weird world that was sonically indebted to Thin Lizzy but lyrically (if not spiritually) akin to Bruce Springsteen. Finn quickly demonstrated his ability to weave tales as comical, absurd, and brilliant as a Tom Robbins novel. The themes were real, the lyrics were dense, the sounds were heavy, and it quickly transformed into one of the most amazing things I’d ever heard.
Most people have realized that the Hold Steady aren’t for everyone, and Separation Sunday isn’t for every Hold Steady fan. I have buddies who stubbornly neglect Separation Sunday in favor of the more palatable Boys and Girls in America (2006) or their mostly solid later efforts, Open Door Policy (2021) and The Price of Progress (2023). For even the most ardent fans, Separation Sunday can feel like a lot; however, it’s well worth the investment. As a concept album or just a rock and roll record, Separation Sunday stands as the most outstanding achievement in the Hold Steady’s catalog, and it signals a transitional moment for indie rock at the early part of the 21st century.
While their debut effort, Almost Killed Me, served as a precursor to Separation Sunday, with some of the same characters and themes, it’s not on the same level. It would be like equating James Joyce’s Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man to Ulysses just because it features a common character. Separation Sunday honed the band’s sound and sharpened Finn’s artistic vision surrounding sex, drugs, and parties. In the Hold Steady universe, art and hedonism go hand in hand, and the music finally reached a level of sophistication that matched this belief.
Separation Sunday tells the story of a Catholic girl named Holly (short for Hallelujah), who encounters various types along the seedy underbelly of the places she inhabits, primarily greater Minneapolis. A few of those characters include Charlemagne and Gideon, each with their own demons. Playing the part of narrator, Finn inquires, “Do you want me to tell it like it’s boy meets girl and the rest is history / Or do you want it like a murder mystery? / I’m gonna tell it like a comeback story” (“Charlemagne in Sweatpants”).
Holly becomes a heavy drug user, makes poor choices in her relationships, and gets stuck in the same cycle that holds her hostage well into middle age. She ultimately finds salvation, which serves as the moral of the story. Like the Who musical Tommy, by the point she gets born again, things get a little weird (not to mention boring), as the good stuff happens when she’s in the thick of it.
One of the most subversive aspects of the Hold Steady is their classic rock roots. This was a time when indie rock held rigid standards about the type of influences that were acceptable, which was especially true in New York City, considering the sounds and styles of local acts that included Interpol, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, TV on the Radio, and the Rapture. In the book The Gospel of the Hold Steady: How A Resurrection Really Feels, Kubler describes how Finn discovered classic rock as an adult, making the process relaxed and fun for everybody.
The band shared a common affinity for bands like Thin Lizzy, AC/DC, and Led Zeppelin. Finn said, “I sort of felt it was okay for indie people to admit to liking that stuff, but it wasn’t for you to play…You acknowledged it was what you listened to at high school parties, but it wasn’t Sonic Youth-y or noisy enough. It was too basic, too meat-and-potatoes, and I guess that was the power in playing that stuff.” They leaned into a musical style that was (and still is) very un-hip.
The Hold Steady were also deeply indebted to Bruce Springsteen, another musician not historically revered in the indie scene, as their work shined a light on the nooks and crannies of their particular locale. The setting of Minneapolis, not to mention the looming presence of the Mississippi River, became a character in Separation Sunday, just as the streets of New Jersey did for Springsteen during his early run. The Hold Steady arguably paved the way for other indie rock musicians, like Arcade Fire and Titus Andronicus, to show how big of an influence the Boss had been.
The disparate pieces of the Hold Steady’s sound came together organically, with Finn’s prolific songwriting and Kubler’s killer riffs. Throwing out any affectation, the band got together and just jammed. Finn proved he could ad lib an epic tale, like a modern-day Jack Kerouac. Instead of scribbling out his thoughts on butcher paper, Finn seemingly conjured these bits of street wisdom out of midair. He was chock-full of random ideas that came across as truisms, like “Silly rabbit, tripping is for teenagers / Murder is for murderers and hard drugs are for bartenders.” We aren’t meant to take these maxims as gospel, but there’s a certain confidence to his musings, not to mention humor.
Over the years, Finn has been revered for his wit and wisdom, but it took time for listeners to appreciate the depth of his droll delivery. Nothing was done in bad taste, as he approached his songwriting with a shared sense of humanity. Take one of the best lines about our bleak state of being, also from “Cattle and the Creeping Things”: “I guess I heard about original sin / I heard the dude blamed the chick / I heard the chick blamed the snake / And I heard they were naked when they got busted / And I heard things ain’t been the same since.” Amen, brother.
When Finn talks about these characters, which comprises nearly all of Separation Sunday but continued into his solo work (most songs being the equivalent of a short story) he celebrates them, flaws and all. Holly was more than just a hoodrat. When we first meet her she comes across as self-assured (“I won’t be much for conversation / If we have to go into the rest of this”), witty (“I won’t be much for all this Humbert Humbert stuff”), and sophisticated (“She mouthed the words along to ‘Running Up That Hill’ / That song got scratched into her soul”).
By the closing number, “How a Resurrection Really Feels”, listeners even feel some culpability for how she was treated, especially when she pleads with the congregation (in this case, us) not to turn on her again.
In the span of just over an hour, Finn creates a world of complex personalities and a meaningful story arc, even if at its core it’s a simple tale about redemption. The epic and beautiful “Stevie Nicks” begins with intense power chords before slowing things down with piano and organ, as Finn describes the bookends of Holly’s journey, from getting high for the first time at seventeen and the last time at 33 at the camps down by the banks of the Mississippi River. There’s an authentic quality to it all, details so specific that you swear you’ve witnessed the carpet burns at the Thunderbird Motel.
In Separation Sunday, the Hold Steady display that rare ability to reflect the real aspects of people, places, and things, even when we know the story is fabricated. That may be the record’s most lasting legacy: how Finn could find little bits of truth when parceling out details that seem so surreal. The specificity of the symbols used in “Banging Camp” stand out, not to mention the reference to killer whales (“They mean they whaled on him until they killed him up in Penetration Park”), sinister imagery that cannot be denied, especially since Loring Park (the actual place) was known for its drug activity.
On the Rolling Stone list of “The 50 Greatest Concept Albums of All Time”, Separation Sunday ranks 40th, more than 30 spots behind My Chemical Romance’s The Black Parade. The record is often an afterthought, and most fans would be surprised it made the list at all. One problem was that the band were relatively obscure and would remain so until the next record.
Up-and-coming artists don’t often make a big splash with something so dense and conceptual. In addition, the record was sophisticated but not sonically daring. There are no interludes or unique musical sequencing, just good old rock and roll. What may be a limitation for some is a breath of fresh air for another.
This lack of adventurousness remains part of their ethos, a standard that has not fluctuated since the band first came together to guzzle beer and jam. Finn shared his philosophy in The Gospel of the Hold Steady: “The Hold Steady didn’t change my life, it is my life… Our songs are mainly fiction, but they try to be very honest at the same time. So at the end of each show, we say and scream and shout all together a benediction: ‘We Are All The Hold Steady!’ That way, each night we leave the stage with a truth.” Twenty years later, Separation Sunday has become inseparable from that conviction.