There's a particular myth about Garageland that must be dispelled before understanding Do What You Want: the band is not named after the song by the Clash. Instead, according to lead singer and songwriter, Jeremy Eade, the band chose 'Garageland' because-- you guessed it!-- they rehearsed in a garage for two years. "It reminds us of that naiveté of first jamming and the freshness that comes with that," Eade has been quoted as saying. "The sad and romantic notion of loser suburbanite kids singing poetry in their parent's garages."

Maybe I shouldn't have clarified that; in this instance, the myth is better than the truth. After all, not many people would frown upon a reference to the Clash. But who wants to hear more music that reminds one of "loser suburbanite kids singing poetry in their parent's garages?" Wasn't Cap'n Jazz enough? Regardless, the issue is moot because Garageland sound neither like the Clash nor like Cap'n Jazz. And to further confuse things, they're from Auckland, New Zealand.

Like most Americans, I know nothing about New Zealand. They have good kiwis, right? And they live in the shadow of Australia. That's about all the knowledge I can summon, but I'm willing to bet on one more thing: the garages in New Zealand aren't very different from our own. Or, at the very least, the garage in which the four members practiced wasn't. What else explains their decidedly American-- or, occasionally, British-via-American-- brand of catchy indie rock? "Uh, musical influence?" Hell, no: it's the crooked tin Pabst Blue Ribbon advertisement hanging next to that green metal rake.

Take, for instance, the opener, "Love Song." The chunky keyboards are the same ones you've heard from any number of '60s-influenced pop outfits. The raw, but controlled guitar of the first half of the chorus, as well as Eade's truncated delivery of the lines, "It's groovy/ There's a movie/ Inside of my head" are pure Pinkerton-era Weezer. And, during the second half of the chorus, the guitars pull back so Eade can have a Pavement moment: he declares, in a deadpan voice, "This is just a love of song/ A very sick love song."

Other tracks also showcase the band's heavy American influence. "You Will Never Cry Again" combines a classic Byrdsian riff with Pixies-style delivery; after it takes off, "Not Empty" falls somewhere between Foo Fighters and Superchunk-- which is to say, somewhere in the quagmire of driving, indistinct rock. This probably explains why it was one of their two singles that reached the Top 20 in New Zealand. But why this one and not "What You Gonna Do?" or "Burning Bridges," which also bear enough mediocre hooks to make fine radio staples?

And then there's "Kiss It All Goodbye," which surely would have landed Garageland on "Beverly Hills, 90210" had the show not "retired." I swear the song is a barely disguised cover of "Mmm Bop" with an ominous guitar briefly thrown in to balance out the woodclacks and bubblegum guitar. And yet, I can't deny the catchiness of this track, even with the repetition, ad nauseam, of the title at the end of the song (drawn-out endings plague most of the album).

And then, oddly, there a few numbers here that sound distinctly British. "Good Luck" is a beautiful, aching ballad that allows Eade to showcase his subtle, distinct warble. "End of the Night" is standard shoegazer fare, and would have fit seamlessly into the Doves' recent debut. And the simple chord progressions and calm delivery of "Trashcans" sound quite similar to recent UK faves Travis and Coldplay.

One song, "Jean," almost sounds like the Clash. Almost. But the incessant handclaps hold back a forthright comparison. The rest of the album is, as the bandname suggests, an amalgamation of the sounds of the more popular ex-garage bands of the last 15 years-- all of it cleaned up slightly, almost begging for radio play. And, frankly, I think Garageland would be huge here in America. If they weren't from New Zealand.

-Ryan Kearney