Every year, there are dozen or so classicist rock bands that make records that are virtually identical to II, the latest by Brooklyn power-pop trio Nude Beach. So far in 2012, the two best examples come from opposite ends of the world: The fine Leaving Atlanta by Georgian tunesmith Gentleman Jesse, and the spirit-lifting self-titled debut by Australia's Royal Headache. You know the reference points for this music: mid-period Replacements, early Elvis Costello, all-eras Tom Petty. These records exist at the intersection of middle-American punk and heartland classic rock. No matter what is happening in the rest of the world musically, there are always people-- mainly young, scruffy-haired white guys, though women sometimes get in on the act, too-- who write snappy, no-frills three-minute pop-rock songs, and then package them into 10-song, 30-minute records. It has nothing to do with being fashionable. Certainly, the world doesn't necessarily "need" more records like this, which is why they eventually tend to languish in record-collector obscurity. But arguing against the continued existence of this music is like saying they shouldn't make new kinds of beer. Why limit the production of what is, first and foremost, a populist pleasure producer, even if the variation among new products is minimal?
After all, the exact right combination of simple, chunky chords required to create The Perfect Rock Song That Makes All Other Rock Songs Irrelevant has not yet been achieved. Surely, this is what has motivated Chuck Betz, Ryan Naideau, and Jimmy Shelton as they've played and recorded as Nude Beach for the past four years. II is a record created with the belief that a trebly guitar riff, a no-bullshit drum beat, and a heart-melting chorus can still rip out the hearts of hopeless romantics young and old. Thankfully, Nude Beach are skilled enough as songwriters and unskilled enough as musicians to re-affirm this belief yet again.
II came very close to being one of those highly enjoyable power-pop records that end up locked inside some local scene somewhere. It was the latest in a series of self-released records distributed by the band on cassette and vinyl at shows in and around Brooklyn. Nude Beach's profile was raised this past spring during a tour with the Men, and after the initial pressing of 500 copies was sold out, Other Music Recording Co. stepped up to give II a wider release.
Those who picked up II after catching Nude Beach in concert were rewarded with a record that faithfully preserves the group's unpretentious bar-band charms. While Nude Beach self-identify as punks, II is more akin to pub rock, the roots-driven movement that pre-dated the Sex Pistols in mid-70s England. Elvis Costello had connections to that scene, and My Aim Is True is an obvious touchstone for II-- particularly "Keep It Cool" and the beery bear-hug that is "Cathedral Echoes"-- but Nude Beach don't aspire to Costello's erudite lyricism or furious posturing. This is good-time, forget-your-troubles music whose primary subject is the pure, uncut joy it inspires. The album-opening "Radio" is made for the very thing the title references, barreling forward with an enthusiasm ideal for car stereos and rolled-down windows. "You Make It So Easy" is an affecting slow-dance number conjuring the memory of a million other slow dances, both real and imagined. "Love Can't Wait" is the scrappy Tom Petty knock-off, delivered with enough affection and endearing awkwardness to make the thievery not only forgivable, but almost heroic.
The only knock on II, again, is that this kind of record is like the city bus, and there's likely another carrier of endearingly disheveled hooks already looming around the corner. As likeable as the album is, there's no saying it won't get out-maneuvered by the next garage band that bashes out a half-hour of blue-denim melodies. What Nude Beach have on their side is songwriting ability and an unshakeable work ethic. That scrappy corner-tavern rock record coming on the horizon might very well be made by them, too.
