The Short of It:
If you still like They Might Be Giants, you'll like this album. If you can't stand They Might Be Giants, don't bother.

The Long of It:
There is a Hot Wheels sticker on the ashtray in my car, so one would think it'd possess some kind of "get up and go" or the like. But it doesn't. At least, it didn't when I was driving across West Virginia this weekend. I had to gun the motor on every hill just to maintain speed. (Of course, I was driving around 80 mph the entire time, so maybe that had something to do with it.)

John Linnell's first solo album, State Songs, hit the third track, "West Virginia," about 28 miles into West Virginia. Like a cross between the Beach Boys and Booker T and the M.G.'s, surfy organ chords lilt their way through a song that covers such timely topics as the state's shape and weather. ("Like I told you, you are concentric in your form/ When it's cold you have got yourself to keep you warm.") As I drove on, the song continued, and I realized that it in no way summed up any of the feelings I had driving through those majestic hills. I mean, it had some intersting lyrics but nothing that conjured up the ghostly, leafless trees or rocky crags dotted with cows.

But none of this truly matters because State Songs was probably not meant to be the ultimate road album. First, a few of these songs feature Wurlitzer band organs, which are large immobile instruments; not something one could tour with. Second, when driving cross country, borders tend to lose significance as you the scenery around you gradually changes, the characteristics of one state blending with those of its neighbors. States only take on individual personalities when they're looked at on maps, where one can see state borders along with statistics for annual corn production. And that's how John Linnell seems to view the states.

One of my favorites (state and song) is Maine. "Shaving razor's rusty but the sting brings you exactly back to... Maine!/ At the top of the chart/ Has crushed my evil heart." Admittedly, this doesn't say much about the state. Neither does Oregon: "Oregon is bad/ Stop it if you can/ Here it comes, here it comes/ Now it's after you." No Crater Lake, no redwoods. But somewhat interesting, nonetheless.

So, if State Songs isn't a driving album, and it's not a true study of our states' individuality, then what is it? I guess the thing it most resembles is a They Might Be Giants album. Hmm... actually, just go back up and read the short of it.

-Chip Chanko