Thank you, thank you. It's wonderful to be gracing the stage of the Chuckle Shack this evening. I gotta ask, now, what is the deal with power-pop bands and oranges? Do they love that damn fruit or what? It's like before they make their record, they sign a contract with the Citrus God or something! "We pledge allegiance to the edible pulpy mass..." Am I right? Are you with me?

...Heh... uh, so what is the deal with power-pop, anyway? It's like any Jack and Jane Schmoe band with a guitar and some drums and three-minute songs calls themselves "power" pop! Where's the power in it anymore? Half of 'em might as well be sleeping while they play! What is the deal?

...Hoo boy! I'm sweatin' up here! What is this, an audience or an oil painting?

Okay, you guys suck. Screw you. I'm not your fuckin' clown-- I'm a music critic, and I'm here to talk about the self-titled debut by the Sacramento power-pop trio California Oranges, and if you don't like that, you can kiss my ass! Yeah, you with the brown shirt and the mullet, go ahead, just walk out! If you don't care about hearing a review of the California Oranges, I don't want you here! Man, my agent should be shot for this weak-ass gig. Anyway, I'm here, so I'm not stopping.

The fact of the matter is, the California Oranges aren't particularly special, and they're pretty mellow for a power-pop band. Power doesn't often come into the picture, with competent drummer Ross Levine usually providing enough cymbal crashes and fills to create the illusion of power. The guitar and bass of songwriters John Conley and Verna Brock are generally subdued enough, with a similarly moderate vocal dynamic. In fact, as Conley and Brock trade off vocals and lyrics, they each seem to create their own aura of cuteness, and fit well together.

For the first half of this ten-track record, the citric formula succeeds. "John Hughes" opens the album with Conley's brand of charming, non-ironic nostalgia. It's a sweet little tale of a boy who lives his life around the movies of that once-illustrious filmmaker, even taking dating advice from the man, closing with, "And if I miss/ Then next time I'll console Kevin Smith." See what I mean? Innocent. And the sugary, bouncy melody helps it go down easy.

Brock's first lead vocal contribution comes four songs in, with "Cross My Heart," a brief, melodic tune that wouldn't sound out of place in a musical. The track somehow turns out to be one of the highlights of California Oranges, as I swear on my musical-hating grave. And "So Much to Do" is Conley's other shining moment, yet another amusing story-type song, this time about a superhero with a weakness for his girlfriend, featuring the record's finest hooks. "Superpowers tend to complicate things," he sings. "Fighting crime and Dr. Doom/ Fighting time to spend with you/ Remembering to hide my suit."

But just after this moment, things begin to fall flat. Brock's following mid-tempo ballad, "The Weather," brings the band's weakest moment. It gets the record's second half off to a shaky start, beginning with one repeating guitar chord and drums that come in late, unable to find the beat-- the kind of moment that's usually left in the "bad takes" pile. And instead of innocent or cute, Brock's vocals come off as whiny.

The rest of the songs prove that the California Oranges' debut would have worked best as a five-song EP. By the time Brock gets around to closing the album with a story song called "Olivia" (about her sentimental love not for the Tremor Control, but for Newton-John), it's too late. The same devices that made "John Hughes" so successful just sound tired ten tracks later. "Captured my heart the first time I saw you," she chirps, "back in the summer of '78/ Since then, I've been hopelessly devoted to you." Nice try, but let's hear about the director guy again.

In the end, the California Oranges get it just about half-right. Their first five songs are lovely; if only they could have kept the formula fresh for twice that length. As it is, their debut leaves us with a handful of decent tracks, and the impression that with just a little more sharpening up, they could be more than just half a good pop band. You, however, couldn't be half a good audience if you tried. Hey! Watch it! Watch it with the throwing! Wait a second... oranges? Damn. You are a sick bunch.

-Spencer Owen