The cries that kick off Pete Yorn’s latest, self-titled record send a very urgent tingling down one’s spine. They shatter the short but very noticeable silence, and meld into a pressing, heartland rock riff to form the song’s sturdy backbone. Enter pounding bass lines, drums, and a few playful lyrics, and you arrive at the recipe for a catchy, radio friendly alt rock song. The New Jersey native seems anxious to shake things up though, and he very freely adds and cuts elements that make his fourth studio album into a sweet and sour mash up of light-hearted rock and country-tinged Americana.
Pete Yorn may be born in a flurry of working man’s rock and roll, but the album quickly transitions from that style, to one with bits of rockabilly and roots mixed in. “Rock Crowd” sounds like a legion anthem at last call, but the alt country competence is enough to overshadow the peculiarity of the switch. From there though, Yorn’s eccentricity can no longer be described as discreet.
“Velcro Shoes” sounds like a theme song right out of an annoying family sitcom; while its instrumentals go from pedestrian to slightly noteworthy towards the end, the song itself is beat up on by heartless vocals and empty lyrics from start to finish. Yorn’s voice for the most part lacks character in the early goings of this latest effort, while the band is prone to getting caught in the same old, unadventurous 4/4 dynamic. The key part of that dynamic – the album’s dominant electric guitar – is also guilty of blending songs into one another, making it hard to tell that, for instance, “Paradise Cove I” actually turned into “Badman” about three minutes ago.
While the singer/songwriter’s polished, commercially friendly tone sounds for the most part like Adam Duritz of Counting Crows, “Always” actually brings the touch of a Pearl Jam (QRO retrospective) cover band to the album. The vocal flat line on “The Chase”, meanwhile, is truly enough to put one to sleep. It seems early on that recording and touring three albums in less than two years has taken its toll on Yorn.
And then, just as you’re getting ready to eject the disc and break in half, a string of three closing tracks makes the roller coaster ride almost worth it. “Stronger Than” goes unplugged – thank goodness! – and manages to rejuvenate you with an honest, endearing singer songwriter number. Meanwhile, “Future Life” should mark Yorn’s return to the Modern Rock charts, and “Wheels” again slows things down on what are by far Pete Yorn‘s strongest lyrics.
The album then stops spinning, and those who were patient enough to endure its entire rotation are left with one burning afterthought: While the constant adding, subtracting, mixing and tearing apart of Pete Yorn may not be a recipe for disaster, the New Jersey native’s third album since 2009 is certainly a far cry from what albums like musicforthemorningafter and Day I Forgot have driven us to expect of him.
