THE ROCKET SUMMER: 'Of Men and Angels' (Island Def Jam)
It's standard practice among music critics to champion Bryce Avary's seemingly interminable talents, so perhaps it's best to get the fawning out of the way before we continue. Yes, it's mighty impressive that this blonde-haired, doey-eyed twentysomething is able to create entire albums on his lonesome, playing all the instruments, singing all the vocals, writing all the lyrics, donning the producer's cap and playing with those fiddly knobs and buttons... that's a hell of a lot to take on at once, and the fact that his records don't come out smelling like an amateurish, over-bloated ego trip is testament to the depth of his talent. Problem is, while Bryce tends to avoid seeming self-absorbed, he has trouble escaping from the trappings of his own creative proclivities. 'Of Men and Angels' is essentially just 2007's 'Do You Feel', writ slightly larger and with moderately different melodies.
The album doesn't really take Bryce anywhere new. He's still the earnest Pied Piper, smothering us in his optimism, encouraging us to see the joy and beauty in the everyday. He tackles prejudice in the jaunty 'You Gotta Believe', but does so in the most polite and taciturn way possible, asking his target to 'excuse (his) rudeness' and 'hoping' that guy's 'blinded eyes' can see that '(you) gotta be free'. It's so inoffensive, it's almost saccharine but Avary's irresistible way with a big chorus lets him get away with it. Similarly, the 'hills and valleys' metaphor in the song of the same name would be vomit-enducing if it weren't for the powerful combo of Bryce's delectably fragile voice and cascading piano solos. The song swoops and soars like a flight over the landscape and you can't help but be thrown along for the ride, agreeing to 'hold on' with him on this comfortable journey.
This is a technique that works, yes, but it's also one that's disappointingly safe. There's little doubt that after a while, Bryce's self-appointed life-coaching lessons begin to grate. The joyful euphoria of power pop gems like 'Roses' and 'I Need A Break...' quickly stagnates, and for an album the length of 'Of Men and Angels', that's something of a problem. Oh sure, not every track's a lethal dose of sugar sweet happiness, but the ones that aren't, such as the hopeless 'Japanese Exchange Student', in which Bryce whines about the plight of the poor, lonely rock musician, are patently atrocious. His persistent preoccupation with his faith doesn't help matters either: the title track is a horribly sickly paen to God wherein Bryce 'falls' at his Lord's feet, casting aside 'hints of fame' in favour of '(His) peace'. 'Nothing Matters' is even worse, coming on like the sort of embarrassing attempt to engage with 'da yoof' that God-bothering travelling troupes bring to school assemblies across the globe.
More of the same from The Rocket Summer then, as Bryce Avary delivers an album of unashamedly sincere optimism, using the tried and tested vessel of infectious piano-led pop rock. Sadly, at fifteen unforgivingly saccharine tracks, this quickly begins to grate and long before record's end, you long for a dose of bitterness to come along and spoil the party. It's a shame really, as 'Of Men and Angels' has the ingredients of a solid album; it just needs a helping hand, a new set of eyes and ears, to realise it. (5/10)
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