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O+S: O+S

A guy, a girl, and a synth: It sounds like the setup for a bad music-nerd joke, but those three ingredients have become some of pop’s most popular in the 21st century, and a quick shortcut to niche stardom for artists moonlighting from less lucrative solo careers (see: Heap, Imogen; George, Inara). O+S, the latest sample-happy male/female pop duo – and earliest contender for least Google-friendly band name of the year – comes courtesy of Azure Ray’s Fink and Remy Zero’s Cedric Lamoyne, a.k.a. Scalpelist, and the duo’s pedigree adds a thin layer of folky weirdness to the assortment of loops and sound effects that go hand-in-hand with projects like this, but it’s neither as odd nor as compelling as you might hope. Though O+S take pains to cover all the genre’s bases – from the doomy “Knowing Animals,” which sounds vaguely like the work of a narcoleptic Siouxsie Sioux, to “Toreador,” which suggests a slowed-down Bird and the Bee, and the Sarah McLachlan vibe of “New Life” – none of the songs are all that memorable. It’s a shame, too – these tracks were built from field recordings Fink created during in Omaha, Alabama, and Haiti, which should have helped them sound like something other than Mazzy Star taking a nap in an elevator with Frou Frou, but ultimately, it’s just more of the same mostly soothing, slightly menacing bedroom pop you’ve heard from plenty of like-minded artists, minus the hooks. (Saddle Creek 2009)

O+S MySpace page

Taylor Hicks: The Distance

It seems like a lifetime ago that Taylor Hicks was being crowned the champion of “American Idol” in its fifth season back in 2006. And while America clearly fell in love with this gray-haired wonder, Simon Cowell didn’t get it and neither did many critics, but Hicks’ debut album went platinum anyway. And while yours truly was a big fan of the material on that debut, the same can’t be said for Hicks’ latest, The Distance, released on his own Modern Whomp Records. There is no doubt this guy can sing with a trademark Joe Cocker-ish bluesy growl, but it’s pretty obvious that the recording budget was substantially less this time around, and the songs are mostly mediocre with performances at times reminiscent of cruise ship karaoke. Nevertheless, a few tracks do stand out, and Hicks is at his best when he tones things down for piano ballads – “What’s Right Is Right” and “Nineteen” are both heartfelt and destined for light rock radio repetition. And “Woman’s Got to Have It,” with fellow Idol alum Elliot Yamin, is a soulful and catchy closer. (LABEL: Modern Whomp)

Taylor Hicks MySpace Page

Living Things: Habeas Corpus

Imagine the Killers recording a sequel to Def Leppard’s Slang – swapping anti-capitalist manifestos for love songs – and you’ll have an idea of what to expect from Habeas Corpus, the second effort from St. Louis trio Living Things. It sounds pretty ridiculous on paper, but it isn’t a bad sound, actually – Habeas Corpus loses points for buffing up the rough edges the band displayed on 2005’s Ahead of the Lions, but it’s got enough glammy sass and swagger to overcome the added layers of gloss. Unfortunately, no amount of ‘tude can overcome lyrics like “Endless summer nights I miss you…There’s an island in your heart / I want to run into your sun…only love can break your heart.” You’ve got to give Living Things props for being subversively funny enough to meld an album’s worth of party-rock arrangements with darkly political subject matter – it’s hard not to like a record that puts a song like “Post Millennium Extinction Blues” within spitting distance from something as proudly, basically carnal as “Shake Your Shimmy” – but no matter how brightly this bauble glitters, it’s still mostly plastic beneath the surface. It’s tempting to wonder whether the band was trying to make some sort of brilliant meta-statement by cloaking its politically aware sloganeering in such blatantly commercial music – but it’s more likely that this is the work of armchair politicians who like to party. Again, that isn’t such a bad thing; once they get around to writing sharper lyrics, it might actually be pretty damn good. (Jive 2009)

Living Things MySpace page

The Lovetones: Dimensions

You have to hand it to an artist, especially one that is not likely making a ton of money to begin with, for dedicating his time and resources to a project like the Lovetones. The brain child of Matthew J. Tow, the Lovetones, for the uninitiated, are a super-groovy psychedelic pop outfit, and their latest, Dimensions, is an album out of time, and multiple times at that. Tow’s baritone recalls the Moody Blues’ Justin Hayward in “Song to Humanity,” “Love and Redemption” is a direct ancestor to “Eve of Destruction,” and the instantly memorable “Journeyman” works the Mellotron like nobody’s business. It’s all quite lovely – though it often borders on laconic – and critics eat this stuff up because it reminds them of their youth (this writer included, sort of). The band’s problem, as it were, is that ’60s psychedelia is purely a niche market in today’s climate; the last time this album had a chance of reaching a wide audience was with fans of the Church or as an after-hours chill record for the Love & Rockets crowd in the late ’80s. Give Tow credit for doing what he loves, but don’t be surprised if this turns out to be the last thing the Lovetones ever do. Cold hard reality has a way of fucking up things like this. (Planting Seeds 2009)

The Lovetones MySpace page

Jeremy Jay: Slow Dance

Any album whose press release describes the artist in question as “a mixture of a storyteller, artist and singer” is basically promising to deliver at least a handful of unintentionally funny moments, and Jeremy Jay’s second full-length release, Slow Dance, does not disappoint. Offering New Romantic synth-pop for the hipster crowd, Jay sounds like nothing so much as a socially stunted teenager with an eight-track recorder and far too many Cure records – except where Robert Smith’s self-flagellating occasionally results in real pop poetry, Jay is chock full of lines like ”I was walking around / In this lonely town / Yeah, I headed to the pier / What did I see there? / A fish in the water.” With an overabundance of analog synths and theatrically unemotional vocals, Slow Dance doesn’t sound terribly dissimilar from Andy Samberg’s Lonely Island singing “Jizz in My Pants” – except Samberg is, you know, joking, and Jay appears to be 100 percent serious, although it’s awfully hard not to laugh when he sings stuff like ”We’re walking down the streets / For chocolate chocolate / We’re walking down streets / We’re breaking the ice / Cold cold, yeah.” It’ll be heralded as a stunning sophomore effort by the cutting-edge corners of the blogosphere, but if you don’t get it, don’t worry – the problem doesn’t lie with you. (K Records 2009)

Jeremy Jay MySpace page

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