Pop music is just... great. I mean, think how impoverished our lives would be without buoyant, catchy-as-all-fuck melodies and treacly chord progressions to snap the brow-beating monotony of "serious," "intelligent" or (self-)"important" music. Pop seems to be at its best when it's straightforward, without pretense, gimmicks or aspirations to be something more. And when it works right, song-lovers converge on it like kids on piñata innards. That said, not all pop music is created equal. Oftentimes, it doesn't work at all, and the very fact that it wants to win us over, but can't, is enough to invite our most bitter scorn and derision-- the sort of contempt usually directed at bad pick-up lines, insincere flattery, and clumsy liars.
Then there's the so-so stuff. Fountain Valley, California's Bikeride lives right on the periphery of so-so, just across the tracks from "really good." Tony Carbone, the principal songwriting force of the group, draws thirstily from the well of 60s pop innovators like Brian Wilson, Burt Bacharach, The Beatles, et al. But who hasn't? There are two perils inherent in this strategy: Pulling 60s tricks in 2001 isn't interesting anymore, it's just retro. And second, the old guys did it best. So, toeing the nostalgic line, as Bikeride do, is always an iffy, hit-or-miss stunt; either you do the tradition proud or you bellyflop.
Summer Winners/Summer Losers, true to its title, has a lot of both. As well it should, I guess, considering that it's not a regular LP, but a compilation of several old EP tracks, previous unreleased songs, and LP bonus tracks heretofore only available on Japanese releases. Perhaps terms like "cohesiveness" and "flow" have little or no place in the discussion of compilations, but borrowing as it does from many of their previous releases, Summer Winners/Summer Losers is a convenient place from which to judge Bikeride's work as whole.
Bikeride completists (all four of you) are going to buy this no matter what. For the rest of us, a little history is in order: Carbone and friends started the group at Loyola Marymount University. They've since released two full-lengths (1997's Here Comes the Summer and 1999's Thirty-Seven Secrets I Only Told America), as well as the Dogs EP, the America's Favorite Omelettes EP, and the Raspet EP.
This record's opener, "Here Comes Summer", is its only previously unreleased song, and an odd choice for a lead-off; of all Summer Winner's 19 tracks, it's the least representative of their work. Fuzzy, delayed guitar chords and a driving beat lay the foundation for a chorus of harmonizing voices singing about, um, the coming of summer. The song boasts some gorgeous chord changes during the bridge, but the overall feel is spoiled by the unnecessary addition of a violin playing a Middle-Eastern scale over the otherwise standard pop progression. Before long, we're introduced to "Meghan" and "Leah & Nikki", both mid-tempo, California-style pop songs with flute melodies, tambourine, harmonica, and lyrics about-- you got it-- summer.
"New Year's Girl", originally from the Raspet EP, brings a welcome shift. If The Cars had been a 60s band with Moog synths, they might have sounded like this. (Sorry, Ric.) Which brings us to "Carl Wilson Suite", which simply switches between torpid, strummy verses and garish choruses that sound kind of like old Neil Diamond.
"You Stepped on My Guitar" is a less-than-half-baked idea that should never have seen plastic. Illustrating how fish-out-of-water these guys sound attempting to "rock out," the song features annoyingly twee lyrics ("you hurt my baby [guitar]"). "Shawna", meanwhile, puts lyrics to a Casio keyboard demo song: In a word, awful. "Continental Divide" sounds brilliant in comparison. At the risk of wearing out my bad musical hybrid license, imagine old Billy Joel covered by David Bowie trying to sound reggae-ish. Odd, but curiously enough, not all that bad.
It's not until the tenth track, however, that we get an actual good song. "Fine and Dandy" is less than two minutes in length, but is among the best Summer Winners has to offer. Folky guitar, pitter-patter drums, and Carbone utilizing Dylan-esque vocal techniques make for a successful and rare moment of peace and quiet in a compilation littered with frenetically "cute" odes to voices and styles long dead.
"A Summer Song", the first of two covers, reprises the early 60s bubblegum classic, and peddling quickly behind is "Handlebars", the easy pick for the album's best track. Here, the songwriting is strikingly similar to that of Blanket's Chad Crouch, with sparse, delicate chords, and even toy piano toward the end. And yet another surprise comes with the sing-songy "Country Driving", which boasts great harmonies and bluegrass licks on clean-toned Fender guitars.
"The Four of Us in June" is the saddest, prettiest cut, but only lasts a little over a minute. Nice use of church bells, though. "Endless PCH", meanwhile, serves only to reaffirm Bikeride's so-so tendencies. And then, we reach the final track: A rendition of The Go-Gos' "Our Lips are Sealed" that busts out the banjo and the 3/4 timing to good effect, if a little too late. A so-so ending to a so-so collection that Bikeride fanatics can wrap their so-so loving hearts around.
