(Some sort of Cinco de Mayo synchronicity? A superstition that 5/5 street dates will translate to 5/5 review scores? Who knows.) More specifically, last week brought us a tremendous embarrassment of riches in the realm of lower-key, gentle, lazy-time music – right on schedule for the mellow mellow month of May. This past month was probably 2017’s best yet, and last Friday, in particular, was the single most absurdly stacked new release day we’ve had all year. Meanwhile, the new music keeps on coming a limitless fount of blessings. (Including, to keep things semi-2017-related, the supafunky sample source of Jens Lekman’s megajam “How We Met (The Long Version)” which has also been in my head for about a week.) So far I’ve barely even scratched the surface of my Numero haul – I’ve been much too busy combing through new releases in order to winnow out the month’s absolute finest strains to share with you, dear reader – but I’m pretty amped to dig in deeper as soon as I hit publish! I missed RSD this year for the first time in a while, but I made up for it later in the week by swinging by the Numero Group “ Factory Outlet Roadshow” tour stop in Kensington: a traveling pop-up shop from the peerless Chicago-based reissue label: where I stocked up on gorgeously-packaged reproductions/assemblages of 20th-century pop ephemera. And also because quirky devised human-scaled social rituals like that are just great. Which, I gotta say, is the one capitalism-based holiday I can fully get behind – not so much for the cavalcade of exclusive releases, which feels more extraneous and vaguely exploitative every year, but for the explicit excuse/occasion to go hang out in record stores, which I sadly rarely do otherwise. Cruel April gave us DAMN., Coachella, the debacle-du-spectacle that was Fyre Festival (not actually much a music story, as it turned out)… oh, and Record Store Day. Ross Hoffman presents Now Hear This, a sampling of fresh specimens for your consideration. It is, however, easy to roll down the windows, stop worrying, and let White Reaper deliver the throwback goodies because they do it in fine, frivolous style.Sylvan Esso | photo by Shervin Lainez | courtesy of the artistĮvery month, noted song expert K. It's hard to frown while songs as snappy and fun as "1F" soar through their gleaming choruses or to be blue when giddy tunes like the title track bop past in joyously carefree fashion. That being said, people who don't take their music too seriously might find that You Deserve Love is just the kind of record to put on when some mood elevation is required. None of this good-time, borderline silly music is going to earn the band any critical hosannas and anyone who had hopes that the group would ditch this sound and go back to howling garage punk is going to feel let down. Everything is streamlined and stitched together with consummate finesse by producer Jay Joyce. Some of the songs have hard rock DNA ("Headwind," "Raw") some of them are pure pop ("Might Be Right," "Headwind") and one or two, like "Eggplant" and "Saturday," even creep very gently into funky Maroon 5 territory, only with none of the ickiness that implies. Tony Esposito sings with all the passion of someone auditioning for the lead singer slot in Survivor, and the band fall in behind him with swooping synths, harmony guitar lines, massive guitar solos, and a rhythm section tighter than a too-small pair of 501s. It's a very specific sound and feel that could have come off as corny if not played and sung with all the conviction of guys who really believe their rock & roll dreams will come true. 38 Special's "Hold on Loosely." Or "Caught Up in You." Or some amazing amalgam of both. Much like on World's Greatest, they are unapologetic about their love of cheesy album rock and dive in headfirst with a mash-up of power pop like the Cars and swaggering rock like Thin Lizzy to come up with a batch of songs that almost all sound like close relatives of. With You Deserve Love, the band make the jump from Polyvinyl to Elektra, and in the process, they smooth out and slick up every remaining jagged edge left over from their ragged beginnings. Unlike many bands who have left the garage in search of bigger, better sounds and fallen flat on their faces, White Reaper had the songs, skills, and attitude to pull it off and make something just as fun and fulfilling. On their 2017 album World's Greatest American Band, the Kentucky quintet White Reaper shed any vestiges of their garage punk sound in favor of a strutting and slick modern take on album rock of the late '70s and early '80s.
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