You can almost hear laughter emanating from the inside of the jewel case of Loud and Clear. These guys think they're so clever, don't they? Moods for Moderns. What a laugh and a half. A veritable riot! But let's look at just how "modern" this record really is: obviously, it's a 2001 release, but you'd never know it from the sound of it. Sure, it feels recent, but every sound could just as easily have been culled from pop records made before 1979. Modern, my ass, boys.

But then the joke comes back two-fold: Moods for Moderns... hmm... sounds familiar... Elvis Costello! Armed Forces! 1979! Should have been painfully obvious, right? Yeah, well, it was; this entire thought process rushed through my brain in about three seconds. Plus, in reading up on the group, I discovered that as part of their philosophy, they don't listen to records made after-- guess when!-- 1979. And they only use recording equipment made before 1979.

Loud and Clear offers two different musical styles over the course of its 10-track duration. Take your pick: rock-steady 70's pop songs or effervescent, swingin' 60's pop songs. To its credit, the album contains enough harmonic hooks to kill a fleet of dissonant sperm whales. Some of the songs work on the recording's analog warmth and simple harmonies. Yet, some others seem to retread melodic and stylistic ground that's not only been covered about three-hundred-million times before, but at least once already on the same record. It's a syndrome that many nostalgic pop bands can't seem to shake, and on Loud and Clear, it's downright unavoidable. Witness the second track, which utilizes the exact same rock tempo as the opening track. And again two tracks later. It seems like their 70's schtick is riding more on stereotype than genuine influence.

As much as the album may repeat itself, though, it does have its moments-- namely, the 60's-style closing tracks. "Candy Apples" features a light, vigorous snare-and-ride beat, and lively, bouncing Hammond organ as drummer Dave Shettler innocently sings in lovely harmony of thinking of "a lyric/ That'd make you fall in love with me." "So Long Canada" swings along at a similarly lively pace, once again incorporating organ and analog synths to make the melody-- this time sung by guitarist Nate Beale-- go down smoother. And "Long Distance Dedication" mixes mellow, trippy Beach Boys harmonies with ballads of the early 60's and even late 50's, as bassist Ben Force takes his turn on the mic with a sad love story about the radio.

Oddly, as nostalgic Loud and Clear sounds, I can pinpoint two clear similarities to things 90's and/or current. First, during a brief, bittersweet moment, Force emulates Elliott Smith, both in melody and inflection, with his vocals on the otherwise energetic "Slacker Ways." Smith is one of those nostalgic pop songwriters, though, so this doesn't come as much of a surprise. Even if the influence were direct, it's one of the only truly dynamic mid-record highlights, so it's forgivable.

But the second one is... well, judge for yourself. Yes... yes, the main riff of "Lust for Luster" seems almost directly correlative to... the theme of Fox's popular sitcom, "That 70's Show." Ouch! Surely, I've injured myself in my attempt to leap that oh-so-monstrous hurdle of irony! Of course, the theme of that show is an old Big Star song called "In the Street." The irony stew grows twice as thick! Or not. Still, having been saturated with 90's culture for half of my life, these associations come more easily to me. And after hearing the rest of Loud and Clear, no matter how sincere their love for nostalgia is, I can't help but wonder if they still watch primetime TV.

-Spencer Owen