"The first thing to do is to kill all the lawyers."

-- Shakespeare, King Henry VI, part 2, act IV, scene II

"Do like Shakespeare said, all them pecker-heads oughta be dead."

-- Mojo Nixon, "No Dishes No More"

Maybe the above suggestions are a little drastic, but after hearing this fifth LP from New York City's Saturnine, I think it's time we consider at least preventing lawyers from forming rock bands. Well, except for the Wrens and Pearls Before Swine. But that's it. No one else. And certainly not Saturnine, a pack of indie rock holdouts from the class of '94 whose core members-- bassist Mike Donofrio and guitarist/vocalist Matt Gallaway-- formed the band while in law school at NYU.

Sadly, the most interesting thing about Pleasure of Ruins is the album artwork, or rather, lack thereof. It's completely covered in text. Front, back, inside, even the CD itself is blanketed in a winding, labyrinthine, footnote-and-digression-happy chronicle of the band's history. It's the stuff of a Borges short story.

Two telling snippets from the lengthy tale: "Now we're waiting for the early mid-nineties to roar back with the vengeance of the Pittsburgh Penguins of the 1992 Stanley Cup quarterfinals," and, "Now that we have jobs and careers, we don't really care about the latest trends in indie rock."

Dealing with the first quote, plenty of bands sound stuck in the early mid-nineties, but few sound so completely taken by Gin Blossoms jangle that they feel the need to erect a immovable monument to it smack in the middle of the ever-flowing river of time. This is music in the preservationist vein. And what makes Pleasure of Ruins almost ridiculous is that the time period it seeks to forever dwell in has basically just ended. I mean, isn't it a little early for this kind of nostalgia?

It's not like the album is completely unlistenable or anything. In fact, Pleasure of Ruins is completely inoffensive indie rock. The band is fairly tight, sounding equal parts early Cure and early R.E.M. And Matt Gallaway's voice plays it up, emulating a less haggard Michael Stipe. At times, the band even steps away from complete and utter blandness with, well, something slightly less bland. Take the opening track, "When We Were Anchors for the Sun," for example. It's a nice-enough piece of jangle-pop with passable, if unmemorable lyrics (sample: "We've made a circle in the sand/ We have no hunger and I think we have no thirst to buy the land"), and its only cringe-inducing moment comes with "The History of Cleveland," which ponders the question, "Whatever happened to a band like Hüsker Dü?/ They should have been made superstars/ I doubt they made much money." Hmm. Indeed.

But what makes this album below average is hinted at in the second of the above quotes. I'm glad the boys in Saturnine have "real jobs" and don't have the time or inclination to keep up with trends, but apparently, they don't have time to try anything new or particularly interesting, either. Maybe they're just a little too comfortable, I don't know, but the band seems to approach Pleasure of Ruins as if there's nothing at stake, and therefore, takes few risks. And, as any music fan knows, no risks means no fun. Sure, sometimes it's nice to sit back and listen to music that expects nothing from you. But when it's also passionless, and draws its inspiration from Del Amitri, it's not something you want to go around spending your money on. Save it for law school.

-Jason Nickey, November 15th, 2001