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Not so long ago, quality US rock music, if not an oxymoron, was a threat, rather than a promise, of sub-Springsteen stadium straining. Gradually though more indie acts such as Wilco, Grant Lee Phillips and even Frank Black have reclaimed it for the less bombastic and more intelligently minded. All this time Joe Pernice has been amongst the vanguard. So fittingly this album has lush guitars, pianos and synths carving out good, solid tunesmithery. Many of the songs, such as the laid back Zero Refills, recall the spirit the early 70s where being a singer-songwriter was still a noble calling worthy of respect.
But respect is mostly boring and this release is well beyond that with some of the retrospective life and energy that Richard Hawley is bringing to UK music at the moment – albeit without quite the sheer compelling beauty. (Indeed the tune of Microscopic View is rather more than reminiscent of Mr Hawley’s Motorcycle Song, though as it’s quite possible that itself was nicked from elsewhere, we shan’t dwell on it). As you’ll have guessed by now, this is a record that is hardly going to break new ground for any but the most callow listener, but it doesn’t deserve damning with such faint praise. Its melodies are fine and uplifting for all but the most diehard yankophobe.