There's probably some age at which nostalgia becomes a real, tangible feeling. And whenever that is, surely I'm still far from it. Nonetheless, I still find it in my reactions to different things, often when it's least expected. After all, in this day and age, who really wants to be reminded of Dinosaur Jr.? Especially by a band that possesses only J Mascis' mediocre songwriting tone, and not his guitar heroics! Like a missing link from the Massachusetts renaissance, the Ivory Coast almost makes me wistful for a time when I could get excited about bands like New Radiant Storm King.

Yes, that's right, the Ivory Coast seems to yearn for a time when indie rock was indie rock, and emo was still just a twinkle in some pale kid's eye (or maybe that was a tear welling up?). Frontman Jay Cox sings less than he just talks loudly, sustaining the vowels sounds while steadfastly avoiding melody like the plague. Choruses are signified solely by the repetition of certain lyrics. The lyrics themselves are nonsensical but not mysterious, stringing together monosyllabic utterances into painfully simple rhyme schemes.

So what keeps the Ivory Coast grounded in the illustrious, willfully eclectic Y2K? Not shockingly, two members of the band play keyboards, although without prior knowledge, one would have trouble arriving at that fact until at least halfway through The Rush of Oncoming Traffic. Also lending a touch of modern exoticism are some deft dub influences, as on "Scenes from the Future" and "Ninety, Eighty-Four, Ninety-One, Ninety-Five." Unfortunately, each of those tracks sneak this subtle experimentation in without disrupting the songwriting formula, as a sputtering outro and a short instrumental, respectively. "An American" tries for some unique production tricks, but the drum echo and vocal effects only serve to make the song more annoying. The synths also reveal themselves to be as one-dimensional and unvarying as the generic guitar chords.

Still, the Ivory Coast show promise beyond the inherent ineptitude of a debut album, and lock onto some moderately memorable moments. The opener, "Boys Being Boys," sports a great little guitar solo. "Addsubtractmultiplydivide" enters pleasingly with pretty guitars and a shuffling maraca beat a la Steve Shelley, and, after the regrettable refrain of "I think I'm holdin' a gun," wanders off into a compelling, slowly building instrumental bridge. On "Days of the Week," Cox almost subverts his infuriating vocal tics long enough to make for a good tune. And the nine-minute dirge of Mascis-esque self-pity that closes the album, "Grovers Mills," is saved by a gorgeous horn arrangement.

It's plain to see that a wide variety of influences went into these songs. But sadly, the members of the Ivory Coast apparently defer to the blandest common ground shared by all, and settle for unexceptional music that only hints at the ideas going on underneath the surface. Maybe they need a couple more albums under their belts before they can harness what makes them unique. Whenever that happens, they'll probably be waxing nostalgic for what they seem to be missing out on now.

-Al Shipley