The second album by Chicago's Smith Westerns opens with an odd low chiming noise that can't help but bring to mind a distant ice cream van. Odd as it may sound it's a perfect introduction to an album that may as well be condensed summer. The distorted, reverb drenched guitars bring to mind a lazy sunset on a California beach, the vocals the cool refreshing beer in your hand.
I often find it hard to explain what I mean when I say I love pop music. People assume I mean whatever dross has managed to top the charts, and while there is some crossover 'pop' to me no longer means popular. It's about melody, harmony, song structure, catchy hooks and danceable beats. In many ways this album is a perfect example of what I'm talking about.
Smith Westerns happily wear their influences on their sleeve for all to see (or hear), and there are many. They've cherry picked from the best of the British guitar bands of the '80s (The Smiths, Psychedelic Furs, Stone Roses, etc), built their songs on Beatle framework, and washed it all in the sunbleached AOR of the west coast (The Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, America...). The resulting concoction is as unique as it is familiar.
The album has a youthful exuberance, but balanced with the classic feel and sound it falls short of the precocious arrogance of so many young artists. It's short too, clocking in at barely 35 minutes for the ten tracks on offer. Which works in its favour. Far from outliving their welcome the joys of the album are over all too briefly, making it all too easy to press play again to hear them all afresh.
There's little I love more than discovering excellent new music, and Dye It Blonde is no exception. A time capsule from the greatest summer you never had, which you can crack open any time and bask in its warmth.
No comments:
Post a Comment