eMusic Review 0
It's like one of the spaceships on the cover of an old ELO record crash-landed in the wasteland suburbs of California to smolder between the Wal-Mart and the KFC — Grandaddy's songs begin where yesterday's shiniest dreams burn and die. Jason Lytle, the brains behind the band, retools space-racing '70s prog-pop into bummed out trance-rock, music that's just as transporting but with a woozy sense of post-modern malaise. His albums are populated with drunken robots, people who'd rather spend time with machines than humans, late summer road trips that never quite find the horizon. As the Steinbeckian wordplay in the title of his band's fourth and final album suggests, his characters are folks on the American margins.
But rather than cling to fantasies of promise, they'd rather escape into the strange magic of their messy heads, like slacker Tom Joads with crap temp jobs, cool record collections and barely enough fight in 'em to fire up the bong. On songs like "Jeez Louse" and "Elevate Myself," synths and guitars coalesce warmly with Lytle's Muppet-like voice, and the music teeters between ethereal take-off and an existential failure to launch. "Summer… It's Gone" celebrates loss with chiming bells and wistful acoustic strumming. "Rear… read more »