Four years ago, Guster was called Gus and they decided to change their name. If I were in the group, I might have said, "Hey, what do you say we call ourselves The Indigo Boys? It's kind of funny, and it'll let people know that we play sincere, acoustic folk- rock." Then they would probably kick me out of the band-- not for suggesting the name, but because I'm a shitty guitar player and can't sing a lick. Those bastards don't know who they're fucking with. I'd write a tell- all book describing what jerks they are, how they used to be about the music but now exist only for money, fame and groupies. Why would I do such a thing? (Sob...) Because it's bitter, and because it's my heart.

Okay, in actuality the three guys who make up Guster seem very nice and I'll bet you dollars to doughnuts they're still in it "for the music." You can tell because they sing and play all of these songs like they care about them a lot. The opener, "Great Escape," is the poppiest and most Beatlesque thing here, and it's a blast in a top- down, cruising kind of way. After that, things get a little mushy-- tons of ballads teeming with nice harmonies but lacking a certain intensity. (A few of these songs remind me of fellow Bostonites Extreme doing their unplugged "More Than Words" thing. But the smart money says none of these kids ever gets asked to front Van Halen.)

The line- up is two acoustic guitars and percussion (not a drum kit, but congas and bongos). Guster is ready to busk at the drop of the hat, and therein lies the problem: with music this simple, every last song has got to be aces, and too many of these are just okay-- they slide by and it's hard to differentiate between them. There are a few good ones ("Medicine" and "Perfect" would sound great around a campfire), and the vocals and instrumentation are well done, but the whole leaves you a bit flat. If you just cannot get enough of that harmony- rich folk pop, by all means pick it up. For the rest of you, keep on moving folks, there's nothing to see here.

-Mark Richard-San