Jaill
(SubPop)
The cover pic, of a girl with shoulders like a linebacker, in a very unfortunate get-up (tank top with shorts over leggings, and an absurd cap) is oddly endearing. It's become pretty uncool to look so uncool that you're basically saying you don't care about looking cool, or you're creating your own cool. It's a post-punk anti-style that's faded in the last six or seven years, although instances can still crop up in the middle and northern states.
That's How We Burn rings with exuberant reverb, jangle, and strum. And nearly every song adds engaging changes to great hooks ("On The Beat" could teach some of Jaill's contemporaries a few things about tunesmith).
These guys are doing what so many bands are claiming: taking some notes from the ‘60s (okay, a lot), adding sounds and methodology from the ‘70s-‘90s, and remolding everything into a distinctive feel. Who knew a bunch of Milwaukee Corona-guzzlers could catch some of the casually fresh/urgent balance of the Replacements, Pavement, and the Beach Boys? Apparently Jaill did - the first two plowed forward, going through several bassists before Andrew Harris showed up with his minimal, sometimes "walking" lines. Really throwing matches in the can of gasoline are Ryan Adams's and Kircher's guitars. The offhand sweetness of "Summer Mess" sports Creamsicle-bright, perfectly restrained tones. Juicier twangs mesh with single notes to turn the title track into quite a rave-up.
A cover shot of a genuinely alternative-looking girl can't make an album good. But Jaill has made a great one. Although lead vox Vincent Kircher sometimes veers into that snarky, nasal tone of which some listeners are wearying, That's How We Burn transmutes this almost-issue into a mere bag o' shells. Since his vocals aren't the focal point -- they're just helping propel the songs -- no harm, no foul. And he's a natural at punk phrasing: Some of his best moments cause instant Richard Hell recall.
DOWNLOAD: "That's How We Burn," "Summer Mess," "The Stroller," "On The Beat" MARY LEARY
