Dye it Blonde on Blonde

          The Smith Westerns look like a band I would hate. I could say that before I've even heard a single note. How awful is that? It's completely true though. Sometimes the curse that the overexposure of the modern day media machine/internet allows for is that you get to literally see artists whom otherwise you would have had to conjure up in the ether in your mind. In the past, bands would never live up to that spectre-like image, but by that time you'd already sewed your oats with their sound. You're either in or you're out, all looks aside. The aesthetic was just gravy.  The issue for me was, having seen these guys first, I made my mind up, "nah I'm good". This is practically the only excuse I have for waiting as long as I did to take the plunge and listen to their second album, released in January of 2011, "Dye it Blonde". I'm not proud of it, but thankfully this band might have helped me take my first step into asshat rehab.

   
        The album seems like it was the long forgotten soundtrack to an 80's teen movie that never got released, forever banished to John Cusack's basement. Normally, much like their image, this would be something that would immediately turn me off. Even when I hear the album, there are times where I can't believe I'm enjoying what I'm hearing. I'm certain that says more about me than it does about them, because when it comes down to it, this is an absolutely stellar record.
       Most accounts of their first album tell tales of fun, catchy tunes that sound like they were produced in a tin can alley by a rag-tag bunch that wasn't worried about it. This is where they excel in album #2. The production is shiny, bright and reminiscent of the bubble-gum pop of days past. Right from the first track, "Weekend", the big hooks, catchy-as-possible choruses and "holy-crap I can't believe how much I am enjoying this" guitar licks/solos are smothering your senses in the most enjoyable way possible. These youngsters from Chicago clearly know how to bang out a beautiful pop tune that will challenge even the most ardently adverse listener to not hum along.
        Whether it's "All Die Young", "End of the Night" or honestly, any of the other tracks, these songs are absolutely dripping with positively brain burrowing Beatles-y melodies. The catch is they've been infused with enough glam-rock shimmer to give the sound a semi-modern touch that a lot of brit-invasion-wannabes lack. For example, after dreamy verses and a sing-along chorus, "Imagine pt. 3" has a guitar lick that kicks in at about the three minute mark that practically makes me wet my seventeen year old Westminster panties. When it starts, all I want out of life is to hear it again and again. As can be said about a lot here, it's simple and it's fantastic. From there it almost immediately shifts right into one of the best ELO ripoffs I've ever heard. Jeff Lynne himself wouldn't be able to find a way to help produce it better (OK, that's a lie). Normally, this is the type of band that can crank out a few hits on a few albums, but what's remarkable is how this album consistently holds up from front to back, listen after listen. There isn't a song I even consider skipping, which in the days of iTunes singles and fast-twitch texting, is about as common as a mastodon heavy petting with an ocelot.

        These young chaps clearly know what they are doing, and it was me (the significantly older one) that needed to grow up and become more accepting. By not allowing my knee-jerk reaction to shun the sounds of an era I had previously been almost universally opposed to, I found one of my favorite albums in a long time.  Perhaps in doing so I can officially take a step towards the maturity that is needed to become a more open minded music fan. Who knew that a couple of sugary pop tunes might help to turn me into at least a little something more than an asshat music snob?

Final Score: .91 You're Living All Over Me's