Even when he's trilling in his signature falsetto, Jukebox the Ghost frontman Ben Thornewill enunciates his lines with an exaggerated theatricality, and the band's pop hooks arc with bold, glossy grandeur. All of which means that listening to a song by the peppy piano-pop Brooklyn trio feels a little bit like stumbling unexpectedly into a Broadway musical (let's say Movin' Out; singer Ben Thornewill sings like a man who owns a Billy Joel record or two) at that precise moment when everyone breaks into song. If you're the sort of person who can suspend the necessary cynicism when this happens in the movies, then maybe you'll go for their brand of hyperactively hooky power-pop. But if you have ever wondered such apt questions as, "How do these people know all the words?" or "When did they find the time to practice these dances steps?" and "Why wasn't I invited to the practices?" you are probably the sort of person who should steer clear of their latest record, Safe Travels.
Drawing inspiration from piano-driven singer-songwriters (Thornewill cites Harry Nilsson as inspiration for the sparse closer "The Spiritual"), synth-tinged power ballads, and blue-eyed soul, Jukebox the Ghost occupy a niche carved out by the continued cult success of Ben Folds' solo career, though they lack his goofball wit. Bite and humor (and some other qualities that would earn the Nilsson comparison) aren't exactly in their wheelhouse, and instead the tone of their music has only one setting: excessive earnestness. See, for example, "Oh Emily", which is probably the most maddeningly passive-aggressive break-up song you'll hear this year. "Oh, Emily, you're a funny girl, and I didn't mean to break your heart," guitarist Tommy Siegel sings with an apologetic shrug over a rosy glow of synths. "But I'm lost in love with everyone." That is, of course, a cloyingly euphemistic way of explaining how you fucked up, and the overall sound of Safe Travels suffers from the same problem: It's paralyzingly afraid to offend.
Safe Travels tackles themes of mortality and maturity (I know this because there's a song called "Adulthood"), especially during its ballad-heavy middle section. Like the gospel influenced "The Spiritual", "Adulthood" is actually a highlight. It's about the death of Thornewill's grandfather from lung cancer ("In my lungs I still feel young/ But my body won't play along"), and it benefits from a specificity of feeling. The similarly thuddingly titled slow-burner "Dead", on the other hand, relies too heavily on vagueness, cliches, and dorm room stoner philosophy to be genuinely moving. "And if you're dead," Siegel wonders at one point, "How do you know if you're really dead?"
And, well, let him wonder. Maybe this is an aptly deep thought for Jukebox's target demographic, which is probably not going anywhere: As long as there are college freshmen who think Passion Pit are "too weird," people who prefer the "Glee Version" to the original and ABC TV producers looking to do segments about hip indie bands in Brooklyn, there will be an audience for bands like Jukebox the Ghost, who at least do this unoffensive brand of power-pap serviceably. But if you’re too much of a realist to believe in trick lighting, happy endings or choreographed emotion, Safe Travels will probably leave you wishing for riskier terrain.
