Dear bosom friend,
Kindly trust me that it is in your best interest to go buy the new Ted Leo record. It's called The Tyranny of Distance, and it's one of the best pop albums of the year. You won't be able to stop whistling the first song.

Sincerely,
Kristin Sage

---

And that's all you have to say to a bosom friend. But I wanted to tell more people about this album, so I decided to write my first Pitchfork review in nine months about it. I felt out of the groove, and articulating my feelings about The Tyranny of Distance wasn't coming easily, so I played Madonna's "Into the Groove" for inspiration. It worked. The material girl's lifeless vocals, supported by a canned beat and slap-bass, reminded me of what was at stake. There's too much vacant, formulaic pop being pushed out of vocoders and onto the airwaves for people not to hear this record. Ted Leo's latest offers ample hooks, a uniquely expressive voice, and a perfect single that, in a just universe, would be all over the radio. I wanted to tell the world of the album's riches! Riches of song! Plus, most days I'd rather write a review than prove my love to Madonna.

After Leo's impressive work with Chisel and his legendary performances with his brother Danny in the Sin Eaters, Ted Leo's solo work has been anything but consistent. It's ranged from unlistenable tape experiments to a great cover of Thin Lizzy's "Little Girl in Bloom." This album could have sounded like anything.

As it turns out, it sounds like everything. The first few chords of "My Vien Ilin" instantly reminded me of the MTV theme that used to come on behind the astronaut. "The Gold Finch and the Red Oak Tree" uses the metaphor of a message sent through a bird's simple song, and recalls the Beatles' "Blackbird." The last segment of "Stove by a Whale" sounds like it should be played by Uilleann pipes.

When I saw Ted perform with the Sin Eaters, he was decked out in a denim jacket with Rush scrawled on the back in magic marker, and the arena rock sound is certainly a common denominator in Ted's equation. Backing him here are the Pharmacists, who probably sport similar jackets with "The Who" and "Wire" marked on the sleeves. The guys seem to have gotten a kick out of passing the sticks around the studio-- the tracks featuring Danny Leo's drumming become fist pumping anthems, while James Canty's kit harkens back to Keith Moon showmanship. James' brother Brendan (who produced the album and can usually be found playing in Fugazi) even lends a hand on "The Great Communicator." Pete Kerlin and Alex Minoff round out the line-up on bass, and Amy Dominguez from Telegraph Melts guests on cello.

This could all have easily turned into a giant mess, but as Ted sings on "Parallel or Together," "So I gather around me all the pieces of a song/ And fit them where they belong." And it really isn't any more complicated than that-- Leo might be influenced by the Jam, Wire, and Thin Lizzy, but he's got a guitar that never sounds confused, and an amazing talent to combine these elements into something that sounds distinctly Ted Leo.

If I had to register a complaint, it's that "Timorous Me" could only be described as "very John Cougar," even if the first line wasn't, "Me and Johnny sittin' in the green grass." It opens with dueling guitars that could take on the Allman Brothers in a bare-knuckles fight (and get the girl) before settling into lyrics that seem nostalgic and forced. But let's face it: many songs on this album are simply poignant and earnest. The fact that only one turned to cheese is a testament the record's general ability to deliver.

Two of the album's lyrical themes seem to reflect the fork-in-the-road Leo's songwriting has approached: taking a step back to look at things in a simple way, and finding songs in what he hears all around him. In the past, it seemed like Leo had to actively attempt to obscure his clear vision and effortless pop songwriting in the name of experimentation or deconstruction. That's not always necessarily a bad thing, sure. But now, in "Biomusicology," Ted sets the record straight: "All the songs you hear down there/ They have a purpose/ All in all, we cannot stop singing/ We cannot start sinking.../ We swim until it ends." Well, I can't stop whistling the damn song, so let's hope Ted keeps swimming. Maybe next time he'll leave Johnny Cougar out of it.

-Kristin Sage Rockermann & Chip Chanko