I’d like to start this review with a concession: I’m a fan of The Strokes. I know this probably gives me some sort of handicap when it comes to this record, but in other ways it makes me more competent to review it. Any discussion of this record will of course touch on the fact that Mr. Hammond is a member of The Strokes-and the sound of this album certainly lends itself to previous releases by said group.
But there’s a key difference between The Strokes and Mr. Hammond: Hammond is earnest. There is nothing earnest about The Strokes. There whole image-cocky hipsters whose clothes look so apathetically arranged they defy cool-is a fabrication. No one is that much of an asshole. The Strokes are supposed to be mythical in their prodigious poshness, but Hammond is just a dude. Hammond, a member of a successful and pretty damn good band, took time out his busy schedule to write ten songs, record them, and release them. Its obvious that he earnestly believes in this music. And it shows.
There’s something about the Beach Boys charm of opener “Cartoon Music For Superheroes” that’s supposed to take you off guard, but there’s nothing unexpected about Hammond opening with a song like this. Acoustic guitars with chiming bells are a definite contrast to the stuff he’s used to playing, and that’s the point. Hammond is showing his versatility with what is essentially a good pop record. Songs like “Blue Skies” and “Call an Ambulance” are filled with innocuous and well executed soft-pop hooks. But Hammond is just as eager to remind you of his bread and butter, which he also does well on the Strokes-esque rockers “In Transit” and “101". Hammond also enlists the help some friends, including Sean Lennon, Julian Casablancas, and Strokes Manager Ryan Gentles. And for those worried about Hammond’s singing voice, he holds his own quite well.
The album’s closer, “Hard To Live In The City”, is its best song, and its definitely in the vein of The Strokes. This is no fault however, the songs win at every turn; guitars churn with melodic confidence and Hammond seems as comfortable as he’s been the whole album. As the song comes to a close Hammond has won you over, but for the last minute or so the song goes into a poppy horn overture. As his guitar chugs along and the horns rock out, Hammond finally reaches the happy medium Yours To Keep tries to establish, and even if this epiphany is ephemeral, it is no less admirable. |