What is it with people trying to act British? Seriously, what is this mysterious factor that compels your average apple pie-eating, baseball-watching American male to assume a British accent? It can't be because a British air entails any sort of instant credibility on this side of the Atlantic; just look at how long it took Blur to dump their "ridiculously uncool" status in the U.S. In fact, I would say that the common conception of the English is that they are rather goofy, as seen in "Monty Python," "A Hard Day's Night," and "Black Adder." They enunciate words strangely. They have atrocious dental hygiene. Their society revolves around such oddities as "tea" and "crumpets," not to mention the "metric system." They actually like Oasis. They are suspiciously near France. All of these factors add up to one thing: pure, unbridled lameness.

Yet Scott Sherpe, the vocalist for Paris, Texas, still endeavors to sound British. There's no excuse for this, of course: Paris, Texas are from Wisconsin. Nothing says "I'm not British" quite like a society in which it's not at all uncommon to wear a large fake wedge of cheese on one's head. Perhaps it's only for practical reasons that Sherpe feigns the accent; how else could he possibly rhyme "say" with "mercy?" But to grant this concession to Paris, Texas would be an unduly charitable act, for Paris, Texas are quite possibly the most obnoxious band functioning today. The music itself is merely mediocre, but Scott Sherpe is really quite innovative in the field of absolutely ridiculous lyrics.

Let us examine my personal favorite instance of Sherpe's flair for the annoying, which appears in a little ditty called "It. Peterson:" "'Cause I feel so cool 'cause I'm with you/ The top of my hair to the bottom of my shoes/ I feel it/ I feel it," which is followed by several utterances of "Come on and gimme gimme more." The overall effect of this sequence of words, when set to a derivative musical background, is one of profound nausea. In at least two different songs, Sherpe asks, "What would you do?/ What would you say?" but fails to actually add the "if" clause which would make these lyrics somehow coherent. Here's another classic: "Oh boy, you think that you're so cool/ You're a fool." Man, I hope he's not talking about me!

To provide more examples of the lyrical mastery displayed on So, You Think It's Hot Here? would be a mistake, for it would give this album more attention than it truly deserves. Polyvinyl's slant on Sherpe is particularly humorous, and I swear that I'm not making this up: "Scott's vocals are a study in sassy!" It's entirely possible that this is the funniest sentence ever written.

The music itself is nothing extraordinary, but not poor enough to warrant any lower a rating. The musicianship is occasionally sharp, though rarely ingenious, leading to a fairly disappointing listen whenever the vocals kick in. The boys just look so charming live in their matching white v-neck shirts and navy pants, which should be worth a little something extra. But I wouldn't actually recommend this album to anyone who I didn't hate intensely.

-Taylor M. Clark