There are gems aplenty here. "Waves," with its odd handclaps, is especially nice, as is "Don't Blow It," a rocking tear-jerker. Vinyl dust-'n'-scratch samples and winding, repetitive Casio-keyboard tinkling seamlessly connect everything like a long, lonely-hearts blog.
But then the lyrics take it from there. You can hear lower lips trembling in the laments about drunken dads, abandoned moms, and lost (undoubtedly bored) girlfriends. Thanks to the breathy vocals that utterly dominate the mix, the sentiments seem disingenuous. It's supposed to be all intimate, but when Blake Sennett has to ratchet up the pipes as songs swell, it's obvious he can't sing, which is kind of a prerequisite for pretty pop. The band could elect to mess up their mixes and weird things out, but we've already got Califone for that.
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