A stark, alien beauty glares through the windshield as you drive through Vermont. You can't quite put your finger on its source-- why's it different than, say, New Hampshire? Soft hills, shy valleys, and pitiful rivers reveal mother nature in her Lolita stages. Eventually, the reason for this raw beauty becomes clear. Vermont highways bear no billboards. Such a subtle difference awakens your senses. It's Europe. It's free from the gaudy distractions of consumer culture.

Unfortunately, this analogy cannot carry over to Vermont, the band. Two members of the riffs 'n' lisps Promise Ring-- drummer Dan and songwriter Davey-- moonlight in the Vermont. Promise Ring's approach is shamelessly simple-- loud guitars, three chords, girls, weather, and medium pace. Their three-minute power-pop cloys and tickles the money bone. Strip away the bold pop signage and you're left with Vermont. However, behind those aural billboards hide no puzzle-perfect landscapes or inspiring verdant bluffs. No sir, behind the volume and barre chords lies barren acoustic poem-pop and slurred slumber-party confessions. And the voice. That voice! Davey Von Bohlen sings as if he's stumbling through a new language. The nerve connecting his brain and tongue is clogged with saliva and sugar. When it trips over these bedroom ballads instead of the usual Cheap Trick rehash, it treats ears like Lennie from Of Mice and Men armed with a cheese-grater.

Lyrics like "After lightning and thunder/ Everything becomes blunder" help very little. Von Bohlen throws his throat into every line with mistaken aplomb. A good songwriter should know what his mouth can handle. The press kit audaciously claims that Vermont soothes like Red House Painters. It's my duty as a critic to destroy such notions. The Red House Painters reverberate, climax. Vermont plonks along with shrill melodies. It's pretty much the sort of clumsy folk you'd expect from a guy in a by-the-numbers pop band who puts himself on the cover wearing a heavy sweater, petting a doggy's tummy. The chord-picking is bare, the drumming is gentle. And so Davey stands in front, pale and naked, forcing you to turn away in shame.

-Brent DiCrescenzo