If infernal indie snobs ever create the fascist regime they seem itching for, and you find yourself death-marched through repeated listenings of Trout Mask Replica, you'll probably start fantasizing-- right around the 17th time through "Pena"-- about the days when you were free to listen to bands like The Sinking Ships. Apres-garde though they may be, this California quartet has an assured knack for winning pop songs, performing them with all due gracefulness, as they demonstrate on this would-be contraband, Out of Key Harmony.
The Sinking Ships add little to the basics of power-pop kept alive by the loving disciples of Big Star, but originality has never been a defining aspect of this genre. As Alex Chilton and Chris Bell watched prog-rock flower with jaundiced eyes, so, too, do the Ships turn away from a purportedly progressive world that tags a homophobic misogynist like Eminem the wave of the future. And why not; their wall-to-wall guitar jangle still sounds fresh and exciting, even after years of moderate-to-heavy usage.
Vocalist Katie Conley (ex-Holiday Flyer) shows why great singing will never go out of style, anti-commercial diktats notwithstanding; the sonic melange centers around her, and for good reason. Though her tone may be too pure for those enraptured by sweat and strain, she has an aching, lovely voice with superb control, and loads of coy sexiness. Conley fares well among the dense textures featured here, but in two moments during "Complicate Everything", when the accompaniment is stripped almost entirely away, she reveals nuances that are regrettably buried on the rest of the album. Even during the record's busiest moments, she still commands much attention, sounding equally impressive at her fieriest as in gentler passages.
The rest of the band-- and Out of Key Harmony as a whole-- is decent, but tend to promise more than deliver. Their first handicap is an awkward mix, which suffocates everything that should be loud, and at crucial moments. Also, Matt Levine may be a fine rhythm guitarist, but his leads lack bite, a problem only intensified by the indiscriminately glossy production. The band could use some stinging ballast to balance their sugary tendencies, the way that Robert Quine and Richard Lloyd provided counterpoint to Matthew Sweet for his best work. Failing that, they could further pursue the subdued punk leanings that pop out joyfully in "You Can't Push Me Away" and "Laughable". Like Neil Young after Harvest, The Sinking Ships could head for the ditch and make things very interesting along the way, but as it stands, the band is only breezy at their worst, and thoroughly inviting at their best.
