(Artemis Records)
After attaining some radio success with his soulful cover of Peter Gabriel's \In Your Eyes"" this past year, singer-songwriter Jeffrey Gaines has returned with all new material for his fifth album, Toward the Sun. Unfortunately, while Gaines' unique voice and talent for catchy melodies are clear, the majority of the album is bogged down by too many clich??s and too little variety to make it more than a promise of what could be.
The opening track, ""Falling Apart,"" is an uneven start which sets a precedent for much of the album. True, it does establish Gaines' folk-inspired sound, gravelly vocals and mellow delivery. However, it does little to set itself apart from other post-Sept. 11 peace songs. The chorus itself is ambiguous: ""What are we gonna do/ What's this world coming to/ It's breaking my heart/ It feels like it's all/ Falling apart."" In truth, it could apply just as easily to current events as to any random breakup. While theoretically its vagueness might better allow the song to fit many situations, it ends up fitting no context in particular and losing all of its potency.
Such is the case with many of the songs, which simply don't get personal enough to be meaningful. The album is littered with obligatory references to romantic frustrations and the desire for freedom, but Gaines is so calm that the songs lack the necessary urgency to affect the listener in any real way. A good example of this is the fifth track, ""Without You,"" the chorus of which consists only of the title repeated over and over. The song itself is beautifully executed, and Gaines has a great voice to sing about lost love, but neither reach their full heartbreaking potential. Gaines seems to have maintained a distance from the subjects he is singing about, and as a result, both the music and the listener suffer.
After a while, the songs acquire a certain sameness. Gaines seems to operate under an ""if-it-ain't-broke"" mentality, choosing rarely to stray from a standard formula. His vocals want for a change in emotion from song to song, and although the guitars are appealing, it seems that those on one track might be easily exchanged for those on another.
His choice to repeat themes continually throughout the album does not help the matter. Instead of driving home a concrete message by varying the complexity of the lyrics, the listener is instead washed over by a sea of hazy ideas. Such a constant, indistinct stream becomes tired near the end of the album, especially on tracks like ""In This Lifetime"" and ""Love Me,"" the latter of which strays into whininess.
Perhaps the brightest spot on an otherwise mediocre album is the final track, ""Come Out Tonight."" The song is simply executed: just Gaines and his guitar, but the song benefits from the change-up from the more overtly studio-handled songs. It might not quite qualify as a heartfelt ballad, but Gaines seems to show more of himself in his quiet, near-spoken-word delivery. It sounds for once like he is singing to someone in particular, which gives the song more power than any other on Toward the Sun. One can only hope that ""Come Out Tonight"" is a sign of things to come; if so, there is much promise. With any luck at all, Gaines is journeying toward something greater--it's just too bad he didn't reach it here until the album's final song.
(RCA)
In 2003's horserace of new artists with major label debuts, Longwave started from the outside track. Neither ironic nor locked in a garage, Longview is seemingly at odds with this year's indie rock theme: bands which sound like the Hives or the White Stripes, or are named Cat Power.
Oddly enough, the texture-rich Longwave cut their teeth in the same New York club scene as the far more straight-forward Strokes and White Stripes. While the Strokes' appearances at venues like The Luna would culminate in last year's immense popularity, it was Longwave who was signed to The Luna's house label, Luna Sea. Now on RCA, Longwave intends to bring full soundscapes back into rock music.
Using drawn out guitar strokes in simultaneously challenging
and almost-too-melodic songs, Longwave's The Strangest Things embodies everything critics liked about Brit-pop staples five years ago without sounding five years old. Longwave approaches moody songs Radiohead might write and a thousand alt-pop bands could ruin by playing more smoothly with a determined electric guitar and gritty distortion.
The Strangest Things is an album full of unique, intelligent, standout tracks. On ""Everywhere You Turn,"" a U2-style melody is presented with complex, meticulously dirty layers. The drum is intentionally misplaced; an inaccurate triad is placed beside the melody; the guitar clashes with the bass. The mismatched sounds create a full sounding, powerful effect. The bass on ""All Sewn Up"" begins jerky and slightly off-tempo, like a third grader being toldto slow down and keep time with the band, adding depth to a stellar song. Even tracks that use a more straightforward style, like ""Pool Song,"" are still far above standard fare.
Longwave will not resonate with everyone. But the people who are receptive to Longwave's sound will be dazzled by it. The Strangest Things is a very strong album, an impressive debut, and one of the few truly praiseworthy albums of the year.
