Power Pop Survivors Reign Supreme

by Simon Glickman

Mention the phrase "power pop" to your average major-label A&R dude-provided he stops fiddling with his BlackBerry long enough to listen-and most likely he'll run screaming.

The catchall phrase describing sturdy melodies, jangly guitars, sweet harmonies and other virtues traditionally associated with The Beatles and their progeny has fallen into disrepute in commercial circles. Sure, a hermetically produced, diet-cola derivative persists on adult pop radio, invariably warbled by tousle-haired, centerfold-ready kids. But its callow, over-amped hooks and breathy vocalizing are a poor substitute.

Despite the prevailing wisdom of the mainstream music biz, it's older musicians who, more often than not, have something to say. But getting older is as lethal to one's chances in that poisonous demimonde as it is in "Logan's Run."

Happily, longtime exponents of solid, star-gazing pop proliferate in the margins, working their three-minute miracles. Best of all, they exemplify an option that involves neither burning out nor fading away.

As the creative minds behind Split Enz and Crowded House, New Zealand's Neil and Tim Finn have already given the world enough incandescent melodic pleasure to ensure their own constellation in the power pop firmament. But the rapturous choruses on The Finn Brothers' new Everyone Is Here (Nettwerk) prove their gifts undimmed. Collaborating with kindred spirits like Mitchell Froom, Jon Brion and Tony Visconti (who furnished the sumptuous string arrangements), the Finn fraternity provides an object lesson in emotionally direct, economical songcraft. The resolute "Won't Give In" kicks off the album with a message that all musical survivors might embrace; "The Luckiest Man Alive" glimmers with hard-won optimism. Indeed, there's not a bum track among the 12 here.

Adored in power pop circles for his smart, pithily tuneful creations with Southern indie gods The dB's, Chris Stamey has resurfaced with a graceful, gorgeous new album, Travels in the South (Yep Roc). Backed by a supple band and assisted by such guests as Ryan Adams, Ben Folds and Don Dixon, Stamey delivers guitar-driven rock songs with flavorful, satisfying choruses, just as he always has. But time has lent a remarkable depth and searching spirituality to his writing, as evidenced by cascading gems like "14 Shades of Green," the soaring, soulful "Kierkegaard," the galloping "Ride" and the pop-history fantasia "In Spanish Harlem." Stamey's fretwork, meanwhile, crackles with energy and feeling.

Nashville-based troubadour Bill Lloyd has labored in relative obscurity since the '80s, but his latest, Back to Even (New Boss Sounds), is another case of mature grace obscuring any kind of career bitterness. With a Southern-accented combo of six-string chime and big-chorus yearning closely related to Stamey's, Lloyd demonstrates how music, love and a restless imagination can make a man of a certain age-endlessly reminded of how gravity is pulling him through the bottom of his recliner-believe he can levitate. The reflective title track is a particular standout, reinforcing its theme of recovered equilibrium with a terse, bittersweet guitar motif; "Everything Is Different Without You," meanwhile, delivers an emotional wallop in a hushed, acoustic setting.

During his decade-plus tenure with Seattle power pop stalwarts The Posies, Ken Stringfellow was a creature of extremes, the punk-leaning, proto-Byronic counterweight to co-founder Jon Auer's more urbane and polished persona. But Stringfellow's new solo disc, Soft Commands (also on Yep Roc), is far more intimate and comparatively hushed than anything he did with The Posies. Still, the man's gift for baroque, questing melodies continues to impress. Whether aided by a string section on the sun-dappled, devotional "Any Love (Cassandra et Lune)," accompanied only by his piano on the wrenching "Known Diamond," with its Joni Mitchell outlines, or opening up with a full band on the urgent, slightly angular "Don't Die," Stringfellow pursues a singular vision. The latter song's refrain, "Don't die young, baby," might be a new kind of revolutionary anthem.

"I never get love, I only sweat blood," sings Davíd (pronounced Dah-VEED) Garza on "One Drop," a propulsive gem he recorded in 1996. The sentiment certainly captures what many felt about the Texas-bred singer-songwriter and guitar virutoso's wonderful but woefully unappreciated work on the majors. Fortunately, this song is part of an exhaustive five-disc (including one DVD) retrospective of his work from 1989 to the present. Spanning Latin folk, rockabilly, glam rock, primitive hip-hop, dub, musique concrete, cabaret and virtually every other genre you'd care to mention, A Strange Mess of Flowers (Wide Open Records) is an often stunning, sometimes ungainly monument to creative ambition and romantic abandon. But it also boasts a handful of true-blue pop-rock beauties, not to mention one of the most supple and sensual voices you're likely to encounter. Of special note: the trippy, sparkling "Valerian Aquarian" (featuring Jon Brion), the slinky "What Do I Know," the dreamy "Foul Jasmine" and the timeless "Georgia Bo."

All in all, there are plenty of reasons to celebrate the fringe status of these industrious artists-being off the music-biz radar has probably kept them out of harm's way. They just keep making great records for those who still like that sort of thing.

Old is the new young, baby. Grab your guitar.

Originally published on Pulp Syndicate.

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