The Weepies - Hideaway

On the cover of The Weepies’ last album, Say I Am You, were two little white songbirds gazing at each other. The husband-wife duo’s first record, Happiness, had a line drawing of salt and pepper shakers on the cover. Most of the songs on the albums fit the art--cute folk-pop ditties like “Gotta Have You,” Take it from Me” and “All That I Want” embraced that early honeymoon stage of relationship bliss.

Since Say I Am You came out in 2006, Deb Talan and Steve Tannen have been busy--touring behind an unexpectedly successful album, plugging their pleasant tunes onto TV shows and Old Navy or JC Penney commercials, and having a baby. Apparently all these life changes have taken a toll on the couple.

The cover of The Weepies’ newest, Hideaway, shows a lone whale hiding from stars beneath the ocean. And those birds? They’re not quite the same. In “Little Bird,” Talan asks her feathered friend to “Brush your gray wings on my head/Say what you said, say it again/They tell me I’m crazy/But you told me I’m golden.” The minor, descending guitar riff, mournful strings, subtle ambient noises and layered vocals add some gravity to the matter.

It’s not too surprising that this record would be more somber. After all, there’s only one direction to go after titling a debut album Happiness. Still, this is only in comparison to The Weepies’ previous material. There’s nothing edgy here, and even the forlorn songs sound pretty amid the milky production and voices perfectly suited for the inventive harmonies. Talan, who’s a little chipmunky, takes the lead on most songs, and Tannen chimes in often to fill out the simpatico sound.

A review in Paste a couple of years ago described Say I Am You as “Sunday-morning songs for the coffee-and-New York Times set,” and that still holds true. In some ways, Hideaway is well-suited as a background album. It doesn’t require any active listening as the pop melodies come and go smoothly and sweetly. If you’re not into passive listening, that can be one of the Weepies’ few faults (along with going a bit overboard on background vocal tracks).

But unlike most palatable pop, Hideaway (and the rest of The Weepies’ catalog) doesn’t go stale with repetition. (Trust me; my wife plays them constantly.) Songs like “Antarctica” and the title track will likely burrow themselves into your brain for days. Unlike the hopeful “Stars” off the last album, “Hideaway” is a glass-half-empty take on the celestial bodies: “Even the stars sometimes fade to gray/Even the stars hideaway.” “Antarctica” continues the theme of isolation as Talan refers to the continent as “my only living relative.” And yet, both songs are still whimsical enough to soundtrack a bright spring day, despite the morose lyrical overtones.

The album ends on a more uplifting note with “All This Beauty.” The song revels in beauty so intense “you might have to close your eyes and slowly open wide,” proving that there’s light behind everything The Weepies do. In fact, even that whale on the cover--the one lingering alone in a sea of blue--has a smile on his face.

Hideaway is out now on Nettwerk.

mp3: The Weepies - Hideaway

Derek Webb with Sandra McCracken

Back in 2006, when In Rainbows was merely a twinkle in Thom Yorke’s lazy eye, Derek Webb released his third solo album, Mockingbird, for free. The album had a more typical release in late 2005, but starting the following September, Webb began giving the album away on the Free Derek Webb website in exchange for a downloader’s name, email, zip code and the e-mail of five friends. More than 80,000 people downloaded the album.

It’s a tactic that fits the progressive persona of Webb, an evangelical Christian who began his career with Christian radio faves Caedmon’s Call and has been putting out surprising solo releases since 2003. Webb has described himself as an artist who occupies “a niche within a niche within a niche.” At his show Friday night--which was a benefit concert for Project Compassion, an organization that provides assistance to Central Ohioans with HIV and AIDS--that proved to be true.

Evangelicals tend to label Webb as a dastardly liberal, and liberals find him too evangelical; the mainstream Christian market shies away from his not-so-subtle criticisms of the church and the government, while mainstream radio thinks he’s too Christian (after all, this show took place at New Life Church in Gahanna). Folkies and indie rockers also haven’t let him into the club as they have contemporaries like Sufjan Stevens or David Bazan of Pedro the Lion.

Webb kicked off the show as a backup musician for opener Sandra McCracken, who also happens to be his wife. The Nashville couple created a nice, off-the-cuff mood for her set of originals, as well as some tunes they co-wrote off the home-recorded Ampersand EP that was released last week. McCracken has a lovely, pure voice that resonates live better than on record, where she sometimes slides into adult-contemporary land. It’s nothing brazenly new, but she has folk pop nailed--“Grey’s Anatomy” noticed and picked up one of her older songs, “Ten Thousand Angels,” recently. The Dylan cover “If Not For You” rang especially true.

The highlight, though, was Webb’s solo set, thanks to his scratchy-at-the-summit vocals, folky hooks and biting lyrics. And while Webb does tread a starkly different path from those in the mainstream Christian music industry, it would be a mistake to characterize him as someone who’s not “preachy.” Each song has a message, a very clear one. But he takes cues from protest folk singers as opposed to sentimental schlocks you’re likely to hear on The River.

Take the sarcasm-laden “New Law” off Mockingbird: “Don’t teach me about politics and government, just tell me who to vote for/ Don’t teach me about truth and beauty, just label my music/…I don’t wanna know if the answers aren’t easy, so just bring it down from the mountain to me/ I want a new law.” Or the politically charged “A King & A Kingdom”: “There are two great lies that I’ve heard: ‘The day you eat of the fruit of that tree, you will not surely die,’ and that Jesus Christ was a white, middle-class Republican.”

It’s a rare breath of fresh air for an artist who sings about faith to push the envelope and make some people squirm. Webb said jokingly that his goal is to eventually alienate everybody--his next album will focus on race and sexuality. Apparently he’s still palatable enough, though, because “Grey’s Anatomy” picked up one of his songs, too: “Name,” off of last year’s more electric The Ringing Bell, was recently played over a lengthy montage of fornicating doctors. “It’s as close to a hit as I’ve ever had, or probably ever will have,” he said.

That may or may not be true. Webb’s acoustic rendition of “I Wanna Marry You All Over Again” was funny, quirky and catchy--a good recipe for a love-song crossover hit. But in the off chance it becomes a top download on iTunes, don’t be surprised if he just starts giving it away.

(More slightly out-of-focus pics with bad lighting here.)

mp3: Derek Webb - Mockingbird

Pink Reason - Borrowed Time

Pink Reason has a new 7" out. I haven't been able to get my hands on one yet, but found this mp3 of "Borrowed Time" (below) courtesy of Fashionable Idiots, who's releasing it. At just over a minute, it has Kevin DeBroux's warbly echoed vocals over a fuzzy, speed-freak guitar riff. It's punkier and more upbeat than most of the stuff on Cleaning the Mirror, and I like it. Definitely worth a listen if you're even mildly interested in Pink Reason and/or the whole shitgaze thing.

While I'll be at an entirely different kind of show, Pink Reason is playing Carabar tonight with Hue Blanc's Joyless Ones, Michael Zink's Nuggets and Grave Blankets.

mp3: Pink Reason - Borrowed Time

Peter Moren - The Last Tycoon

If the name Peter Moren sounds foreign to you, chances are you’re more familiar with him than you think. Moren’s other gig as the songwriter/vocalist/guitarist for Peter Bjorn and John propelled him into the spotlight after the band’s successful 2006 album Writer’s Block, featuring the formerly ubiquitous whistle-filled single “Young Folks.” Oh, and the band is from Sweden, so I guess the name Peter Moren should sound somewhat foreign.

Now Moren has branched out of PB&J with his first solo release, The Last Tycoon, and just this week he came to the states for a brief North American tour. The Wexner Center was able to grab one of the handful of dates--he’ll play the venue’s performance space tomorrow. (Kudos again to the Wex for continuing to help fill the void left by the closing of Little Brother’s.)

Those planning on going to the show shouldn’t, however, expect the same up-tempo New Wave power-pop that PB&J is known for. The Last Tycoon is folky, singer/songwriter fare with an intimate, home-recorded feel. Moren’s vocals are right up front in every song, which is bothersome because he constantly sounds like he has a bad cold. It’s not as noticeable on PB&J material, with its fleshed-out arrangements, but on a record this stripped-down, it becomes irksome. The album does have various flourishes like strings, synthesizers and some percussion, but Moren’s voice and guitar (or sometimes piano) are the undeniable focal points of the songs.

Expecting any of these songs to be as catchy as “Young Folks” would be an inappropriate expectation, but most of Tycoon’s hooks are marginal. “Missing Link” and “Le Petit Coeur” are sad and sappy in a Jim Croce or Burt Bacharach kind of way, the latter track perilously delving into the French-lyric realm with pompous results.

“This Is What I Came For” is probably the best track, a long-form folk song with hand claps keeping the beat, piano punctuating the pauses and repeated verse melodies serving as the refrain. But the song also highlights Moren’s scatterbrained lyrical approach: intriguing lines interspersed among seemingly random thoughts that rarely combine to complete the puzzle.

The album is named after the film adaptation of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s unfinished final novel, a story of a tragic Hollywood executive who succeeded in business at the expense of his happiness and health. Moren does weave a similar theme of discontent throughout the album. “Social Competence” describes a man sick of putting on a happy façade and smiling politely at the world, but it does so with such flatness. “I don’t want to talk to you about the things you do, about your weekend,” he sings in the refrain.

“Tell Me in Time” describes the slightly unpleasant after effects of a relationship: “It’s not that I want you back, but I admit that sometimes I miss the feeling of being known.” There’s no intensity, just a lukewarm malaise--a malaise that’s contagious when listening to The Last Tycoon.

mp3: Peter Moren - Social Competence

The Black Canary w/ Afternoon Naps, Black Swans - Ravari Room, 4/18

The Black Canary is one of those Columbus bands that seems to be consistently on the cusp of notoriety but still manages to fly under the radar, despite having some pretty great songs. There are reasons for that, though.

For one, the band isn’t exactly prolific. The Black Canary formed in June of 2006 and released a single, creating buzz that landed them a spot on a CMJ sampler CD and a slot at last year’s CMJ Music Marathon. But that’s all the band put out until Friday’s rescheduled release show at the Ravari Room (the original was snowed out in March). The new seven-inch single, “Vampire,” was given away for free at the show and is also available as a free download on the band’s Myspace page (and below, for ease).

So after about two years, there is still no debut album from the Black Canary, though singer David James promised a full-length in September. With that release history, the band shouldn’t have been too surprised at the sparse crowd.

But what made the show worth covering, and what makes the Black Canary worth listening to despite its spartan output, is the band’s fresh take on ’60s psychedelic pop. It’s a style the band has made all its own, setting it apart from most Columbus bands. The songs are filled with shoegazey atmosphere, and James’s understated vocals don’t get in the way of the Moogy mood. Ethereal swells are pinned down by Eric Buford’s heavy but simple drumbeats.

The atmospheric textures were handled Friday night by a Macbook and some live synth parts while a screen provided polka-dotted visuals at the back of the stage. It was also fitting that James was played an Epiphone John Lennon reissue, as the Beatles are an obvious influence on the band.

Unfortunately the set as a whole lacked the fluidity that the Black Canary captures so well on its singles. The vocals were often too low in the mix and too dry for the band’s material. Some songs did work well, such as the B-side cover of Blur’s “Sing,” but instead of keeping that good vibe going, the banter between songs killed it. It felt like amateur hour, with James awkwardly name-dropping other bands and taking way too long to transition to the next tune. The low point was a collaboration with members of opener Afternoon Naps, which the bands admitted was unrehearsed. It showed.

I was also disappointed with the performance of the new single, “Vampire,” which sounded off-key and without as much of a hook as some of the band’s other material.

Not surprisingly given the band’s catalog, it was a short set. It by no means ruined me on the Black Canary--I’m still looking forward to that debut album when it eventually surfaces. But hopefully between now and then the band will play plenty of shows to hone those chops and do its recordings justice.

Warming up the stage was Cleveland’s Afternoon Naps, who performed short, Belle and Sebastian-style twee-pop songs, heavy on the twee. The guy-girl vocals and jangly guitar were nice, as were the xylophone and trumpet additions, but lyrics like “I’m so happy that you are mine, feeling happy all the time” started to drive me crazy. As did the seemingly required insertion of “ba ba ba,” “la la la” or “bum bum bum” into every song. Once the cover of “I Think We’re Alone Now” surfaced, I just about passed out from the saccharine overdose.

I was mesmerized the last time I saw the Black Swans at Andyman’s, but unfortunately the band was missing its violin player for the opening slot Friday night. It made me realize how much that fiddle adds, filling out the band’s weird, hushed folk ballads. With the violin, it’s eerie and spooky; without it, it just felt creepy. “New Medicine” and “Shake” were probably the best of the short set, and Jerry DeCicca’s low, whispered croon still drew me in from time to time. His harmonica sometimes helped fill the void, too. But alas, it just wasn’t the same. Noel Sayre, come back soon.

mp3: The Black Canary - Vampire

Man Man, Yeasayer - Wexner Center, 4-15

At the Wexner Center, even the most lively bands have a hard time getting the crowd physically moving. It’s certainly nice that the venue’s Mershon, Black Box and Performance Space audiences are reverent and attentive, but for some of the more frenetic concerts, the Wex can sometimes feel a bit too stiff.

Man Man took that challenge and came out on top, working the crowd into an absolute frenzy with its boisterous brand of circus rock. The Philadelphia band--whose members go by Honus Honus, Chang Wang, Sergei Sogay, Cougar and Pow Wow--played in its trademark white with partially painted faces, and mustachioed singer/keyboardist/percussionist/squeaker Honus went a step further and also wore short, white cutoffs. His endless exuberance was contagious.

While the band employed two principal percussionists, everyone on stage was a percussionist at some point, often simultaneously banging on tom toms to create a tribal feel. As goofy as these guys are, they’re also experts at finding a groove and seeing it through. Other instruments that were passed around or shared included saxophone, trumpet, xylophone, melodica, keys (the car variety), pots and various squeaky things that wouldn’t look out of place on a kid’s first bike.

Most of the material from the new album, Rabbit Habits, was a delight to hear and see live. Kicking off the well-attended show with “Mister Jung Stuffed” and “Hurly/Burly” set the tone for the night with a rambunctious, playful vibe. The chantey rhythm and dynamic pauses of “Big Trouble” worked exceptionally well, as did the falsetto chant mid-song: “You walk like a man, but you talk like a fool. You strut like a stallion, but you hump like a mule.”

Apparently the all-white getups weren’t enough for “The Ballad of Butter Beans,” so Honus threw on a black-and-gold sequined top and a gold headband for that song, which especially showcased one of the adept drummer’s talent.

What’s probably most impressive about Man Man is that it can be so over-the-top playful, yet it’s also apparent that the songs are by no means a bunch of jokes. There’s humor, for sure, but Honus means what he says, and being both jovial and earnest is one of the hardest feats to pull off. Take one of the songs from the encore, “Van Helsing Boombox.” It’s a fun, raucous tune, but the hook, which is repeated several times, isn’t the least bit cheery: “When anything that’s anything becomes nothing, that’s everything, and nothing is the only thing you ever seem to have.” It’s downright depressing, but you’ll find the band reveling in the tragedy rather than sulking.

While Man Man’s set felt nicely organic, Yeasayer’s songs were much more digital and scripted than I had anticipated. The whole set was accompanied by computer visuals that seemed to be used more because they looked cool and trippy rather than because they had anything to do with the songs themselves. The programmed vibe wasn’t necessarily bad, just unexpected.

Singer/keyboardist Chris Keating’s stop-motion tics made him look as if he were constantly being hit in the face by small mammals, but it was usually more entertaining than annoying. The band as a whole was spirited and engaging--that, along with the visual effects, inspired a fair amount of hippy dancing.

Yeasayer has a definite “world music” influence, but there weren’t sitars or anything. Just guitar, bass, drums (parts of which were electronic), keys and synthesized sounds. But amid the knob-turning and effects pedals were some pretty great tunes. “Sunrise,” “2080,” and “Wait for the Summer” are the band’s best songs and also happen to be the first three tracks off Yeasayer’s 2007 debut, All Hour Cymbals. They worked well live, though I’m still not too sure what the pretty-but-ominous tunes are supposed to convey, and whether I should care about it. But at least they sound nice.

More pics.

Filling the void, pt. II

Another good weekend for live music in Columbus. Donewaiting.com has a good post about everything going on, including the New Pornographers/Okkervil River show I'm sad to have missed last night.

As an addendum, Monday night American Music Club will play Cafe Bourbon St., and Tuesday night is Yeasayer and Man Man at the Wexner Center, which I'll be covering.

1-sentence reviews

Vacation makes me lazy, so here are some 1-sentence reviews of stuff I've been listening to recently that haven't received the typical lengthy, overly analytical treatment I usually undertake. From the looks of it, I guess I've been generally disappointed with some of the recent releases. (Disclaimer: Some of these are just quick first impressions, so I reserve the right to completely change my mind later.)

Peter Moren - The Last Tycoon
Ho-hum singer/songwriter fare from one of the Peter, Bjorn and John dudes (guess which one?); needs more whistling.

Plants and Animals - Parc Avenue
This band's apparent love of The Beatles could help propel it into the top 15 of 2008.

Matthew Ryan - Matthew Ryan Vs. The Silver State
At its best, this record has a Tom Petty meets The Replacements vibe, but Ryan still sounds a little too much like that other singer from the Goo Goo Dolls to me.

F--- Buttons - Street Horrrsing
Experimental electronic duo does what experimental electronic duos tend to do, alternating between droney-gorgeous and droney-obnoxious.

Sun Kil Moon - April
Former Red House Painter Mark Kozelek has made another Ghosts of the Great Highway, which is fine by me, because it's hypnotic and beautiful.

Sleepercar - West Texas
Jim Ward of At the Drive-In fame's new band is supposed to evoke Tom Petty and Springsteen, but it sounds more like an emo dude trying unsuccessfully to make roots rock.

Destroyer - Trouble in Dreams
Critics in general can't get enough of Dan Bejar, but he's just too theatrical for me--his vocal character and phrasing remind me of overly dramatic singers in a Broadway musical.

Ladyhawk - Shots
This album's a grower, and I can't get enough of the early '90s rock of lead-off track "I Don't Always Know What You're Saying."

She & Him - Volume One
Zooey Deschanel has a terrific voice and a knack for writing '70s pop tunes that are pleasant enough, but I could have used more M. Ward contributions.

Thao and the Get Down Stay Down - We Brave Bee Stings and All
Thao Nguyen proves she's a cut above most female acoustic singer/strummers with tracks like "Beat (Health, Life and Fire)" and "Swimming Pools."

Caribou - Andorra
I decided I should finally get around to this album, and it has proved to be the perfect beach vacation soundtrack: warm and sunny.

mp3: Plants and Animals - Faerie Dance
mp3: Thao Nguyen - Beat (Health, Life and Fire)
mp3: Ladyhawk - I Don't Always Know What You're Saying

Man Man - Rabbit Habits

It’s a blessing and a curse for a band to have a great live show. Otherworldly stage performances rarely translate well onto record, where studios are adept at stripping bands of their intangible charisma.

Man Man occupies that perilous position, with a carnivalistic live show in which the Philadelphia band has been known to dress in white and wear war paint while using all sorts of instruments and non-instruments. It’s eye-catching and exhilarating, what a PR flack would rush to call not just a concert, but an “experience.” (The experience is coming to the Wexner Center April 15 with Yeasayer.)

Rabbit Habits, Man Man’s new release on Anti-, avoids that great-on-stage-dud-on-tape pitfall, ably capturing the band’s one-of-a-kind circus rock. It’s filled with the kind of waltzy songs that can only be sung by a man with a large mustache, which singer Ryan Kattner usually sports. Kattner goes by the Man Man stage name Honus Honus; Chang Wang, Sergei Sogay, Cougar and Pow Wow round out the rest of the multi-instrumentalists. Sure, it’s gimmicky, but with music this freakin’ fun, it’s fine by me.

Captain Beefheart and label mate Tom Waits are the obvious touchstones for Man Man’s sound, more so because of the Philly fivesome’s shared love (or obsession) with the avant-garde than because of a similar sound. Rabbit Habits would be a good soundtrack for an absinthe-only party celebrating the 67th anniversary of the “Pink Elephants on Parade” song from Dumbo, hosted by the Association of Pirates and Ringmasters.

But even with all the antics, the album rarely delves into cacophony. It’s boisterous, cluttered and sometimes more than a little desafinado, but there’s almost always a singable melody driving the unruly tunes. “Doo Right” and the title track could even pass for straightforward piano pop songs. Like the band’s live shows, most of the tracks bleed into the next, slowly transforming a dirge into a celebration or vice versa.

Man Man toured with Modest Mouse at the end of last year, and Kattner’s vocals at times suggest a more gruff, barbaric version of Isaac Brock’s The Lonesome Crowded West-era caterwauls, especially on “Big Trouble,” one of the standouts. The song finds Kattner lamenting with ardor that his lover makes him feel like a zombie, and it also features the best lyric on the album: “You look bodacious in that guillotine.” When the band breaks into a Frankie Valli falsetto chant for the coda (“You walk like a man, but you talk like a fool/You strut like a stallion, but you hump like a mule”), the track becomes certifiably addictive.

“Top Drawer” and “Hurly Burly” are similarly habit-forming, and the 8-minute-plus track “Poor Jackie” enthralls with its disturbing tale of a female serial killer. The song eventually melds into a juke-joint jam, which is then dismantled into horn blurts and female chants of “There ain’t no God here, as far as I can see.”

So it’s not all fun and games. Some of this is penetrating stuff. The closer, “Whalebones,” is a heartbreaking picture of a man desperately trying to save a doomed relationship. “He holds her, though she’s broken,” Kattner plaintively intones. “He swears he don’t care where she’s been. He’s tired of being human. He wears her close to the bone as though she were his own skin.” But after reaching for her, “she slips through the wind like blackened sails.” Meanwhile, playing the role of Greek chorus underneath it all, elegiac women sing, “Who are we to love at all?”

Whew. Heavy stuff. Good thing you can always go back and cleanse the palate with a playful, xylophone-heavy song like “The Ballad of Butter Beans.” With a band like Man Man, there are always two sides of the coin. Otherwise it would just be called Man.

Rabbit Habits is out Tuesday.

Throw Me the Statue, Skully's, 4/1/08

Throw Me the Statue

Tuesday evening at Skully’s started off horribly. Doors opened at 9 pm for the free Throw Me the Statue show, and I arrived a little before 10 pm, catching most of the first opener, I Against the Tower. I’m not sure who decided to pair this band with TMST, but it made no sense. I Against the Tower attempted to rip off Taking Back Sunday but didn’t come close. The guitars drowned out every other instrument, and that was actually OK because all the singer did was flop his hair and swing his mic before emitting unintelligible, piercing emo screams.

The whole set was painfully immature in almost every way, which will be hard for these guys to hear since apparently the band isn’t used to criticism. When someone in the mostly empty bar cheekily yelled “Try harder,” the singer repeatedly threatened to beat the heckler and defecate on his car. C’mon, man. Grow up. Not everyone is going to like you. In fact, judging by the set, most people won’t like you, and you’re not going to endear anyone to your band that way.

In contrast, the second band, Red Hypergiant, seemed like really nice guys, but they also happened to play second-rate grunge. The sludgy guitar accompanied the singer’s nondescript vocals in such an unmemorable way that it was almost painful. It’s the type of material that would have sounded uninspired and recycled in 1995. And vocal reverb can’t disguise dismal songs.

These two openers were the worst Columbus bands I’ve seen in a while, and I’m not one to use superlatives superfluously. I couldn’t handle anymore, so I retreated mid-set, meandering down to White Castle for some Columbus comfort food to rejuvenate my soul. After resting my ears, filling my belly with “hamburgers” and surrendering the last of my pocket change to a Short North roamer, I returned to Skully’s with a tired but optimistic outlook for the rest of the evening.

Eric Metronome and friends took the stage and played a tentative but competent set of indie folk-pop. Metronome is a much more obvious choice to be paired with Throw Me the Statue, though his set turned out to be much more mellow. And that’s OK. The ukulele tunes were nice, the xylophone and quiet keys added pleasant textures and Metronome himself was a convincing reincarnation of Elliott Smith, if a bit less tortured. “Call It a Day” stood out from the rest, as did the Willie Nelson cover “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain.”

I thought for sure that Skully’s would finally kill the ever-present disco ball lights and amp up the stage lighting for Seattle’s Throw Me the Statue, but no such luck. Taking the headliner spot at 1 am, TMTS got the criminally sparse crowd moving, but only for about half an hour, and not as well as it could have.

Don’t get me wrong, the band, led by multi-instrumentalist Scott Reitherman, has some great songs. I’ve been loving its Secretly Canadian debut, Moonbeams. “Yucatan Gold” worked even better live, and the head-bobbing beats and infectious melodies of “Young Sensualists” and “About to Walk” were treats. “This Is How We Kiss,” one of Reitherman’s several tales of amorous encounters, wasn’t bad, either.

But other songs that worked well on record, such as “Lolita,” merely showcased Reitherman’s limited vocal range live, especially in those upper echelons. And thanks to an overly ambitious and loquacious keyboardist, many of the harmonies were off, too. By no means do these guys need to be choir boys, but with indie pop this catchy, sing-along vocals are essential.

The cover of Guided By Voices’ “My Valuable Hunting Knife” was a nice touch for the encore, but for a set that short and that average, it just wasn’t worth the wait.