I had this dream the other night where I kept buying copies of the Will Bernard 4-Tet's Medicine Hat, over and over. Every day I'd come home with another one and place it next to all the others. I never even listened to it! I was like one of those psycho recluses who owns 90 copies of The Catcher in the Rye, except that my subconscious had instead latched onto an obscure instrumental fusion album that I rarely ever listen to. Maybe it was my subconscious trying to get me to listen to the album more often. Or perhaps it was a subliminal message telling me that my music collection is getting too obscenely large. I can see the argument between id and ego now:

Ego: Why do we own nine Electric Light Orchestra albums? Isn't one enough?

Id: No! If you listen from No Answer on through, say, Out of the Blue or Time, it's obvious that they progressed through multiple styles. Like, check out the intro to "Fire on High," from...

Ego: Stop it! You're not making any sense!

Id: Ooh! Jeff Lynne's little known Armchair Theatre solo effort! And only $4.99!

Anyway, this all ties in somehow. Pitchfork High Command has sent me this new album by some band called the Davenports. These Davenports seem to be four nice fellows: two guys guitaring, one guy bassing, and another one drumming. Once in a while, singer/guitarist Scott Klass even does some keyboarding. Oh, and he writes songs! Isn't that nice? As it turns out, these Davenports make nice music, too. It's midtempo power-pop that draws heavily on influences like Sloan, Ben Folds Five, the Hollies, the Kinks, and, of course, the Beatles. Heaven knows I don't need any more of this stuff in my record collection.

And yet I'm not complaining (well, not much anyway). With my pesky little ego tied up in the corner, my id is all over this album like scabies on a nineteenth century sailor. The sugary highs! The syrupy strings! The creamy middle eights! It's all designed to inflame the senses. "Girls' Night Out" starts things off with a little programmed beat before morphing into a very Nova Scotian brand of power-pop. It's perfect for a quick drive with the windows down, and sometimes, that's all I really need to make me happy.

"Object in the Mirror" is an even more direct Halifax connection, taking the energy up a notch before dumping you in California. "I'll Come Down" indulges in what's become the requisite Beach Boys fetishism, pleasing my base desire for more Brian Wilson. Of course, my ego is squirming in the corner. "I know it's well done, but it doesn't matter! This is old territory," he says. "Bah!" I reply. I'm enjoying this. Plus, "Keep Me Far Away from Gary" is baiting me now with harpsichord and strings. I know it's wrong, but I want more. I've eaten my Pan Sonic! Now I want dessert, and this will do nicely.

And so it goes. "Dog Run," which disappointingly has nothing to do with the Iditarod, is nonetheless a pleasing traditional rock song. Klass' affecting tenor is perfect on "You're On Your Own," a great little ballad with a fine string arrangement, augmented by some classical guitar figures. If you dig Ben Folds or Beulah, you're very likely to enjoy "Nowhere After All," a fine piano-driven ballad. Klass and co-producer Charles Newman strike a good balance between high and low points, sprinkling the slow numbers widely enough that the album never feels bogged down. Not to mention the fact that the production rings quite clearly, and, though dense, never feels cluttered.

With all that said, I think it's time to let my voice of reason have a word. Speaking of the Davenports is a solid indie recording. It puts all the flourishes in the right places, it ends with a gentle acoustic number, and it features sufficient variety to keep your interest intact the whole way through. But even so, it sounds like about a zillion other albums out there, taking a peak at a crowded market and crying, "Me too!" It's better than, say, Kara's Flowers, but it's no match for Sloan's group vocals and songwriting. So, dear reader, I guess it's up to you. Do you have room in your collection for yet another easy-going pop record? If so, this may be the one for you. Meanwhile, the artwork for Medicine Hat seems to have a wrinkle in it. Maybe it's time to go buy another copy.

-Joe Tangari