Spectrals' charming, straightforward 2011 debut Bad Penny was largely a family affair: Louis Jones wrote, sang, and played almost every instrument on the album, and brother Will provided the drums. The Jones brothers still make up the core of Spectrals, but new record Sob Story features a much more prominent name behind the boards: J.R. White, the bassist/producer who formerly made up one half of Girls. The band flew from their Yorkshire home base to White's own San Francisco for much of the recording of Sob Story, and dipped into White's Rolodex, too: Sob Story features session musicians on guitar, pedal steel, and bass. With capable playing, veteran production, and refined, confident songwriting and vocals from Jones, Sob Story's best cuts sparkle with easy, compact melodicism, a pop rock accomplishment reminiscent of early Girls singles like "Lust for Life".
Jones' vocal improvement is one of the most obvious differences between Bad Penny and Sob Story, noticeable from the record's first seconds; a voice that was serviceable and nondescript two years ago has bloomed into a wonderfully textured, indelible croon, rich and distinct. It has a fair bit of range too, comfortable carrying the scruffy strut of "A Heartbeat Behind" and the expansive, cutting "Milky Way" in equal measure. On standout "Karaoke", backed by a pinwheeling guitar line, kinetic percussion, and sighing backing harmonies, Jones admits, "I don't think I was really cut out for this/ Who is?" It's delivered like a conversation with a close friend at a crowded pub, and it's remarkably effective, a testament to the newfound strength of Jones' voice and his knack for shrugging, affable tunes.
Sob Story's other highlights are similarly effective. The album is at its best when Jones delivers brisk, bright rock with endearing hooks, whether it's through the simple stomp and sliding minor-key harmonies of opener "Let Me Cave In" or Big Star-like power-pop love songs like "Limousine". A solid sense of humor shines through the melodies, too: on "Something to Cry About", he's imploring a lover to make him upset as fodder for new material, and on "Blue Whatever" he laments that a long-distance relationship might as well be taking place across galaxies rather than cities.
Things begin to lag when Jones drops the tempo and tries his hand at balladry. The transition from the sweet, rollicking guitar pop of "Karaoke" into the slow, pedal steel-laden title track is like riding your bike on a gorgeous, sunny day, only to steer into a thick mud patch; eerie, croaked closer "In a Bad Way" ends the album on an unfortunate, ponderous note. "Friend Zone" is just what you'd expect from a song with that title, a concept that requires pinpoint execution, and Jones' well-meaning effort falls short. It's too bad, because the components making up these slower cuts-- heavy pedal steel lines, emotive vocals-- are mostly gorgeous in their own right, but they falter as part of dragging wholes. But even in Sob Story's weaker moments, it's hard not to root for the Jones brothers. They've managed to cultivate a real sense of personality over their first two records on the backs of good-intentioned charm, lyrical wit and relatability, and Louis' evolving, idiosyncratic vocals. That likable and unassuming identity encourages fond glances toward any minor missteps in the meantime.
