Nearly all of Cuban-born, Baltimore-based Lesser Gonzalez Alvarez's debut long-player is just him and his acoustic guitar, a particularly odd combination given the Wham City membership card he carries. While you've probably become familiar with that collective's Sparks-fueled spazz-offs (see: Dan Deacon, Videohippos, Death Set, and Ponytail), Gonzalez is steeped in Anglophilic folkie steez, shaking hands with the likes of Donovan and Fairport Convention but keeping to a cartoonish, lyrical sensibility that owes as much to the songwriter's own visual art as it does from the poetry of Edward Lear, whose "The Owl and the Pussycat" is adapted here. It's a weird fit for his scene's humid, hypercolor warehouse freak-outs. Yet despite large helpings of whimsy, Gonzalez's wan-pleasant songs don't feel as vibrant as those of his peers.
Opener "A Magic" is a buttered, breakfast commercial strummer that Gonzalez trots out of the driveway with ease. It's a strong statement with simple aims, but its lyrical repetition drains it of any romance. Its pacing remains steady throughout. "Pinecone Eyes"-- dragged down by icy fingerpicking and magic realist lyrics-- is one of a few tracks that recalls the feathery vibrato of Devendra Banhart. Ditto that for closer "Mostly a Friend", a castanet-enhanced earworm with Latin juices. But for the most part, chord progressions are familiar and warm; the leapfrogging of "Build a Tiny Hill" has the fragile lilt of a new Death Vessel lullaby and "Love for Longer" features a stunning ascending melody. Gonzalez has a ragged way with his acoustic guitar that augments the record's matchlit feel; I just wish he'd let loose more often-- maybe even plug in.
