I have absolutely no proof that Forever Goldrush started out as a Cracker cover band, but that won't stop me from planting the seed of suggestion in your mind. I could probably even make a case for it, without ever making mention of the fact that the opening chords of their "Sweet 65" are a near-perfect facsimile of "Movie Star" from Kerosene Hat. I'd rather just picture them playing, without malice, "Satisfy You" or "Eurotrash Girl" over and over when they were just starting out. Visions of a bar band's coming of age through a filter of hazy smoke in a California dive fade in and out of my mental theater while listening to their second album, Halo in My Backpack.

With unabashed country and roots rock leanings, Forever Goldrush generally steer clear of No Depression-style brooding. But instead of using that rejection of twang to chart new territory, they replace it with an unoffensive Gin Blossoms appeal that could rocket them to instant VH1 stardom, if they're not careful.

Frontman Damon Wyckoff possesses a deep, yet tentative voice-- kind of like a cross between a nervous Adam Duritz and a more emotive Darius Rucker-- which wavers in the quantum space between the notes without ever settling into one tone or the other. On songs like the title track, it actually works to his advantage, achieving an amateurish untrained charisma that adds legitimacy to a questionable lyric. And on "Small Town King," he exudes sincerity in that "I'm singing so ardently I don't care about sharps or flats way." But sadly, in the balance of songs, it merely tries the patience.

Musically, Forever Goldrush has a rough hewn, accomplished rock-n-roots sound that's uniformly good throughout. The album begins with "Vicious Ways," a backcountry ride through tempo changes, gritty, wide-open, wild guitar fills and solos, and a passionate ramble of a lead vocal. "Brothers Give Me Arms" is a solid marriage of horns, songwriting and rollicking fun. Songs like this one can singlehandedly build followings. "Bitter End" displays some amazing effects-driven guitar; its aggressive, frustrated solo break is preceded by a spooky guitar effect of gusting wind.

Touches of '70s AM radio staples are recognizable in the Rod Stewart-like turns of phrase on "Crazy Anyway," and "Paint This Town Red" made me immediately recall (to my great, great shame) that, for one brief moment in the folly of my youth, my favorite song was "Make It with You" from my dad's copy of The Best of Bread. (I was six, by the way). But those soft-rock intrusions are fleeting, and outweighed by the good ol' influence of bands like Creedence Clearwater Revival and Lynyrd Skynyrd. That's both good and bad, for obvious reasons.

The lyrics throughout Halo in My Backpack, however, are outstandingly bad, and made moreso by attempts to be pithy and folkloric. The affected colloquialism in pronouncements like, "This here is my passage into manhood," are blushingly embarrassing. A quick core sample of other songs produces more lumps of coal like: "You keep tellin' me that you're insane/ Well, baby, so am I..." ("Crazy Anyway"), or "You took my bitch of a heart into your arms" ("In My Rebuilding"), or the self-indulgent, cry-for-help dynamic at work in "Bitter End" that is too awful to reprint here. I won't stop before mentioning my personal favorite, though: "What I've learned is that roads are scary things" ("Halo in My Backpack"). Make sure you overdo it on the vibrato when reading those lines in your head to get the proper effect.

It would be nice to be able to say that the lyrics don't drag Forever Goldrush down-- that they don't turn something above average into something mediocre. But that's just not the case. Especially when the band showcases them, obviously considering them one of their strengths.

Thus, Halo in My Backpack isn't gold, it's iron pyrite. At first glance, it seems like a treasure, appealing on the shiny, musical surface. But take it to the county assayer's office and learn the crushing truth. Discover it for what it is. It's common, it benefits from similarities with its more valuable counterparts, and ultimately, you're not all that richer for having found it.

-John Dark