Music reviews. CD reviews. Critically hip!

Never more have I listened to an album desperately hoping the artist gets the proper production values they deserve on future outings.  What you have here on Postcards from California by 54 Seconds is an eclectic meeting of styles and talents that never reaches its lofty and rightful home…due to bad engineering.  Despite a mix that works it’s hardest to kill the greatness of the source, Postcards From California is an exciting album.

I should cast aside the comparisons now and get it out of the way.  Probably being the most similar in range would be the Counting Crows; strong, reflective, and melancholy pop that manages to break into a less stark humor occasionally.  Vocally, Spencer Gibb has been compared to Dave Matthews and James Blunt - from reviews I’ve gleaned prior.  However homogenous this opinion has been across the board, I can’t quite believe everyone forgets Matthew Sweet and his Matthew Sweet Band (not Dave Matthews Band).  Spencer Gibb is a dead ringer for Matthew Sweet.  Gibb and Sweet similarly crib that artificial songwriter persona, knowing full well that both individuals remained but a part of the whole of their band of equal musicians.  54 Seconds’ bassist, Rachel Loy, recalls Kim Deal of the Pixies in her background vocal presence, choice of instrument, and overall criminal under use.  This is remedied on tracks such as Wish I Was A Girl and My Crazy Life.  Her bass is commanding and, like Deal, packs bite when in heavily crunched territory.

Keyboardist Stewart Cochran is the last crucial piece of the 54 Seconds pie.  The guy has applied some visionary flourishes and grafted necessary ivory to certain songs, but damn, does he annoy the shit out of me on the most upbeat song How I Roll by implanting what appears to be a goddamn car alarm slowly exploding through the surround sound.  I guess this kind of tom foolery hints you to the type of separation this band takes from comparisons made earlier.  Well, not just the Warhol behind the Moog, but everyone here.  Multi-instrumentalists, all of them.  Because of this you get Beatles-esque horn sections on How I Roll, progged-out Pink Floyd on Breathing, and Jamiroquai distillation on Pocket Full of Numbers.

Postcards From California is frayed around the edges and sometimes not in the good way one can be frayed around the edges.  The mixing on the album mutes and muffles certain ambience that could have been better absorbed through other channels at different levels.  The poor mixing also lends to the greatest deterrent to really getting into this album:  Spencer Gibb’s Matthew Sweet voice gets popped out too much in front of the music.  Granted, I have no beef with that kind of drippy vocalization, but a lot of people find a lot to have beef with when a guy’s voice gets comparisons to James Blunt and Dave Matthews by the greater number of reviewers.  Because the engineering lacks efficiency, the vocal duets between Gibb and Loy fall flat every time.  This really harms the listening power of Postcards From California.  However, if you can weather the inadequacies of an engineer who was obviously born deaf in one ear and the damage that wreaks upon the production of a music album, then you’ll have a lot to enjoy here.  These guys just need to get some better people behind the boards that can support the weight of the band’s heavy talent.