Oingo Boingo's final bow was a tad ignoble. By 1994, time had passed them by and it was painfully obvious, even to them. With New Wave formally undone by grunge, their style of gothic camp was now strictly verboten. Even though ska-punk was blatantly cribbing Boingo's horn charts, the fucking kids would probably never admit it. The band wasn't helped by the fact that Danny Elfman (with the able help of guitarist, Steve Avila) was pursuing a much more lucrative career as a soundtrack composer.
By the time Boingo (now sans the Oingo) cut their last studio album, they'd sacked the entire horn section—even though it was such distinctive characteristic of the band. As an album, Boingo fails almost completely. Sure, it's dark and dramatic with a cinematic sweep—but it all feels terribly forced. The lyrics are often pedantic and curmudgeonly. It's cartoonish in ways that never quite work. The album closes with Change: a nearly 16-minute, multi-part suite of progressive-rock ambition (and this, when 'prog' was a 4-letter word). Not only is it the most adventurous song on the album, surprisingly, it's the only one that feels honest—even genuinely moving.
The first half of the song is nihilistically snarky, arguing the ultimate futility of progress: trying to save the world (or even yourself) will only make matters worse. Later though, the song is more existential and desperately pleading—made more poignant by what preceded it.
Musically, Change starts as a sort of adult contemporary fare, but shifts gears through everything from hard-rock to acoustic psychedlia and symphonics with multi-part harmony. There's a (slightly over-long) skit of a midsection where banal cocktail chatter slowly morphs into monkey screams to the soundtrack of a light string quartet. The near-a-cappella bridge back into the song is beautifully worded and rendered. The entire thing builds up to close on a crescendo.
For an entire album, Elfman & Co. tried to swim with the grunge tide and it was pretty easy to tell they were drowning (not waving). Only when they swam in a new direction did they succeed. Which isn't to say they simply played to their strengths. Change is unlike anything in their catalog. Even if it fits the album it's on, unfortunately—despite its epic scope—the change was still too little, too late.