The Pooches
The Pooches
(Lame-O Records)
Over the last few years Lame-O Records have risen in prominence–due largely in part to the success of their first and biggest breakout, Modern Baseball–and the slew of records they release in that time have come to encapsulate what could be called the Philly Indie sound. Lame-O treads heavily in noisy, chunky Punk goodness, so a record like this self-titled full-length from Scotland’s The Pooches a charming respite from their house sound. That may sound like a backhanded compliment to both this record and the label, but it shouldn’t be taken that way. If anything, Lame-O deserves an attentive listen with every release and this one stands out not only for it’s differences, but for it’s consistent quality.
The Pooches began as the one-man home recording project of Jimmy Hindle and his lo-fi charm earned him critical praise, but he has since expanded the project into a full 4-piece band. That multiplication of members doesn’t push the band into expansive orchestration, but the addition of other hands in the mix–along with cleaner recording and production–does refine the conception and execution of his songs in a good way. The Pooches perhaps truly defines the band, more so than Hindle’s debut, Smoochin’ with The Pooches. That sound is somewhere between the Jangle Pop of fellow Glaswegian’s Teenage Fanclub and the classic Pop songcraft of The Beach Boys.
“Heart Attack” sets the pace of the record with drippy guitars and laid back vocals that give way to bigger organ sounds and Brit-pop guitar leads. The slightly crunchy, upbeat “Another Evening, Another Town” boasts the best chorus on the record and is perfect for late summer drives. There are magical little touches all over this record that are allowed to shine by keeping the distortion at a minimum and smart mixing, like the hand claps and cymbal bell hit on “Japan” which sounds like if The Ramones hewed closer to their ’60s pop influences. The standout track on this record is “Everything” which effectively wraps up the best elements of the record–catchy melodies, plucky guitars and fantastic bass playing–to deliver an introspective critique of self-centered, masculine romanticism of Pop music with the chorus “I don’t want to be the kind of boy who thinks everything is about him,” which is effectively hammered home by the punchy guitars and stomping rhythm.
