The last Kelley Stoltz full-length album was 2010's To Dreamers, and in the time since it was released, Stoltz has been lapped several times by his prolific Bay Area peers. Thee Oh Sees, for example, have knocked out four LPs in the meantime. Sure, he's kept busy drumming for Sonny Smith (most recently on Antenna to the Afterworld), but it makes sense why he'd take more time on a record than his peers might: Stoltz has made his name as a studio wizard. He introduced several of his peers to the Tascam 388. He's the guy John Dwyer called to lay down some harpsichord on Floating Coffin. But his solo discography and stereotype as a studio hermit come with drawbacks. He's the sort of guy who can camouflage himself in the classics—the pastoral Anglophile leanings of Ray Davies, the harmonies of Brian Wilson, and so on. As an engineer, artist, and songwriter, Stoltz occasionally brings to mind Todd Rundgren on the A-side of Faithful: a studio wizard talented enough to give the "uncanny valley" treatment to iconic songs.
That's one of the biggest obstacles inherent to Stoltz's discography—his work often feels like a pose, even if it's an adept one. That's still at play on Double Exposure. The album's title track has the pop robot delivery and immediacy of a Cars song, and while the hook is interesting, the track feels plastic and glossy. At times, it's hard to find or latch onto the exact personality at the core of the album. "Are You My Love" also feels somewhat faceless. The lyrics and melody are generic enough; just sub out Stoltz for Mark Knopfler or Steve Miller or a Nuggets band. He's the sort of guy who unironically sings about climbing off his trip, like he's just emerged from another time when phrases like that were commonplace.
But in the album's best moments, Stoltz goes from playing "fossilized rock'n'roll artifact" to revealing who he really is: an audiophile who pores over music, music-specific biographies, and liner notes. It's a very fine line between those two distinctions, but while the former is a rubber rock legend Halloween mask, the latter is an open admission from "Stoltz as appreciator and student of music". When he makes reference to work he loves, it feels conversational and familiar; in a way, it counterbalances the more sonically dated elements. His piano and bass work on "Down by the Sea" are an elated cribbing of the Zombies' Odessey and Oracle, but he sings about the girl he loves in idealistic terms a crate digger can understand. "She was the girl from a young man's dream," he sings, "A little bit Stevie, little bit Christine/ She never cared about Peter Green." Later, on "It's Summertime Again", he sings about how nobody wants to hear gloomy stuff like "the Spaceman or the Sonic Boom" now that it's nice outside.
And even when Stoltz is singing moon-eyed, pastoral songs that would've existed nicely on a Left Banke record, he can sell that material with his expertly crafted arrangements. "Marcy" is an easy album highlight—a classic entry in the "girl's name as song title" canon—with lyrics about falling in love hard, bicycle bells, and dead flowers. It's given a subtle build, starting off with an acoustic guitar solo, slowly building with synths, acid-washed vocals, and sturdy percussion. Soon, the track gets a well-placed and gorgeous guitar solo from Stoltz and Sonny Smith affiliate James Finch Jr.
"Marcy" is the first in a run of the album's best songs. "Kim Chee Taco Man" is psychedelically goofy, "Down by the Sea" is giddily loving, and both are entirely catchy. "It's Summertime Again", however, is the album's greatest achievement. The backing instrumentals—lilting piano, slightly off-key horns, tambourines–slowly and euphorically echo and bleed together while Stoltz's deep vocals are pushed out front. He packs in phrases that are perfectly suited to the song's smiling-but-dour, "ice melting into summer" atmosphere, like "You're drinking yourself silly with a girl behind a veil", or, "I'm tired of these icicles, I'm in need of skin/ and the sound of 'Little Red Corvette' melting in the wind". And he's a clever lyricist. The song's titular phrase is repeated throughout as a first-person observation, and to keep it from getting stale, he flips the context: "I sit down to read an article by an author that begins: 'It's summertime again.'"
Those final four tracks are among the album's best, but sadly, that peak is preceded by a valley. "Inside My Head" and "Still Feel" are at the album's center, and collectively, comprise over 15 of the album's 42 minutes. There are some nice melodic inclinations in both songs, but they drag on for far too long. And that's ultimately what Stoltz brings to the table with Double Exposure—moments of pop greatness, but also overlong tracks and too-generic delivery.
