General Ratings:
Music: 6
Lyrics: 7
Scope: 2
Consistency: 8
RIYL: Burt Bacharach, The Magnetic Fields, Jonathan Richman
Further Listening: Petty & Booka, Herman Dune, Milo Jones
Place of Origin: Taylor, MS
Instrument/Sounds List: Ukulele (of course), multi-tracked vocals, bass, drums, alternative percussion (tambourine, junk bag, finger snaps), lap steel, trumpet, trombone, tuba, violin, electric & acoustic guitar .
Mood Tones:
Season: Summer
Weather: Hot & Humid
Time of Day: Afternoon
Song Highlights: God Loves You Michael Chang, You Can't Force a Dance Party, College Town Boy
Favorite Lyrics:
"All the way from Brooklyn, Sally came to see me/
'I'll throw you a party,' I gave my guarantee,/
But Michael's far too drunk, he's watching YouTube videos,/
And I'll be in the corner, reading poetry and prose."
(from You Can't Force a Dance Party)
"Since Graduation Day he feels like a fraud/
He still regrets he never studied abroad/
He's never been to Paris, never to Prague/
Oh my God!"
(from College Town Boy)
" 'No, I'm only hanging here/
Until Grad School,' he swore/
Oh, he's lived all over this town/
He's worked in every store.
There must be something in the water here/
There must be something in the beer."
(from College Town Boy)
Other Thoughts:
This record is a bit of a Bon Bon. The picture of Dent May on the cover of The Good Feeling Music Of makes him look like Neil Hamburger's younger, slightly better looking cousin, and that sentiment may not be entirely out of place. There is a nigh-unimpregnable veneer of irony that coats pretty much every song on TGFMO, and depending on how its distinct blend of sarcasm and schmaltz hits you, you'll either love or hate this album (my guess is that 7 out of 10 people who hear the first song won't make it to the second). Mr. May is mostly a first-person narrator, regaling us with stories of downtrodden commiserants (cf. Howard, College Town Boy, God Loves you Michael Chang) and personal shortcomings (cf. Girls on the Square, You Can't Force a Dance Party, I'm an Alcoholic) that are both blunt and (to my taste) hilarious. Perhaps more aptly put: if the fact that you can't incite drunken Southerners to dance on cue doesn't strike you as funny, true or songworthy, you might as well stop reading this review now.
With regards to the music, for an album that at first blush sounds as exotic as this, the recipe is surprisingly simple. The only instruments on every track are the ukulele, bass and drums. The interplay between the ukulele and the bass in particular is what really sells the tropical mood, and I was amazed to realize that he only uses a guitar twice, once an electric, once an acoustic. The lap steel makes several appearances, reminding you that it was originally a Hawaiian instrument before it was co-opted by Nashville, and the few other instruments you'll hear are used mostly for backdrop. Simple instrumentation doesn't necessarily mean boring songs though, and I'd wager you'd be surprised how many of the melodies you could recall after your first listen.
There are a handful of musicians making music today (like Owen Ashworth and John Darnielle to name two) that seem to have a lock on my particular subset of the population, namely over-educated, under-employed 20-something slackers, and one of the biggest impressions that this record leaves is that Mr. May knows this demographic and its excentricities very well. By most accounts, I am the eponymous College Town Boy. The Girls on the Square do make me blue. A guy I ride the train with every day may actually be Howard. However outlandish his humor, Mr. May always takes care to ground his narratives with well-drawn, accurate details, and it's probably these tiny moments of recognition, strewn throughout the album, that grant it whatever substance it has.
The Downside:
If you've just about had it up to here with irony for irony's sake (and I wouldn't blame you), this record is not for you. If you are not feeling particularly indulgent, this record is not for you. If multiple layers of falsetto backing vocals sound like so many nails on a chalkboard to you, guess what?
Being that this record practically screams to not be taken seriously, the two or three cuts that approximate love songs feel pretty vacant, excepting for the melody on 26 Miles, which is top notch. What I said about repeat listens in the Headlights review, take that and double it for TGFMO. Be sure to have your pet spayed or neutered. Goodnight, America.
Music: 6
Lyrics: 7
Scope: 2
Consistency: 8
RIYL: Burt Bacharach, The Magnetic Fields, Jonathan Richman
Further Listening: Petty & Booka, Herman Dune, Milo Jones
Place of Origin: Taylor, MS
Instrument/Sounds List: Ukulele (of course), multi-tracked vocals, bass, drums, alternative percussion (tambourine, junk bag, finger snaps), lap steel, trumpet, trombone, tuba, violin, electric & acoustic guitar .
Mood Tones:
Season: Summer
Weather: Hot & Humid
Time of Day: Afternoon
Song Highlights: God Loves You Michael Chang, You Can't Force a Dance Party, College Town Boy
Favorite Lyrics:
"All the way from Brooklyn, Sally came to see me/
'I'll throw you a party,' I gave my guarantee,/
But Michael's far too drunk, he's watching YouTube videos,/
And I'll be in the corner, reading poetry and prose."
(from You Can't Force a Dance Party)
"Since Graduation Day he feels like a fraud/
He still regrets he never studied abroad/
He's never been to Paris, never to Prague/
Oh my God!"
(from College Town Boy)
" 'No, I'm only hanging here/
Until Grad School,' he swore/
Oh, he's lived all over this town/
He's worked in every store.
There must be something in the water here/
There must be something in the beer."
(from College Town Boy)
Other Thoughts:
This record is a bit of a Bon Bon. The picture of Dent May on the cover of The Good Feeling Music Of makes him look like Neil Hamburger's younger, slightly better looking cousin, and that sentiment may not be entirely out of place. There is a nigh-unimpregnable veneer of irony that coats pretty much every song on TGFMO, and depending on how its distinct blend of sarcasm and schmaltz hits you, you'll either love or hate this album (my guess is that 7 out of 10 people who hear the first song won't make it to the second). Mr. May is mostly a first-person narrator, regaling us with stories of downtrodden commiserants (cf. Howard, College Town Boy, God Loves you Michael Chang) and personal shortcomings (cf. Girls on the Square, You Can't Force a Dance Party, I'm an Alcoholic) that are both blunt and (to my taste) hilarious. Perhaps more aptly put: if the fact that you can't incite drunken Southerners to dance on cue doesn't strike you as funny, true or songworthy, you might as well stop reading this review now.
With regards to the music, for an album that at first blush sounds as exotic as this, the recipe is surprisingly simple. The only instruments on every track are the ukulele, bass and drums. The interplay between the ukulele and the bass in particular is what really sells the tropical mood, and I was amazed to realize that he only uses a guitar twice, once an electric, once an acoustic. The lap steel makes several appearances, reminding you that it was originally a Hawaiian instrument before it was co-opted by Nashville, and the few other instruments you'll hear are used mostly for backdrop. Simple instrumentation doesn't necessarily mean boring songs though, and I'd wager you'd be surprised how many of the melodies you could recall after your first listen.
There are a handful of musicians making music today (like Owen Ashworth and John Darnielle to name two) that seem to have a lock on my particular subset of the population, namely over-educated, under-employed 20-something slackers, and one of the biggest impressions that this record leaves is that Mr. May knows this demographic and its excentricities very well. By most accounts, I am the eponymous College Town Boy. The Girls on the Square do make me blue. A guy I ride the train with every day may actually be Howard. However outlandish his humor, Mr. May always takes care to ground his narratives with well-drawn, accurate details, and it's probably these tiny moments of recognition, strewn throughout the album, that grant it whatever substance it has.
The Downside:
If you've just about had it up to here with irony for irony's sake (and I wouldn't blame you), this record is not for you. If you are not feeling particularly indulgent, this record is not for you. If multiple layers of falsetto backing vocals sound like so many nails on a chalkboard to you, guess what?
Being that this record practically screams to not be taken seriously, the two or three cuts that approximate love songs feel pretty vacant, excepting for the melody on 26 Miles, which is top notch. What I said about repeat listens in the Headlights review, take that and double it for TGFMO. Be sure to have your pet spayed or neutered. Goodnight, America.
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