OK everyone calm down-- summer's officially here. Go swimming, catch fireflies...hell, even go to Lowe's and buy those plastic tiki torches that give suburbanites the illusion they're constantly in the Carribbean, because British folk duo Turin Brakes's third album Jackinabox wants you to enjoy your summer, at any cost. The duo's declared jihad on anyone who dares cast a cloud over their picturesque summer afternoon, and if you think they're joking, the lyrics to "us vs. them" R&R; anthem "They Can't Buy the Sunshine" should fortify their radical fundamentalist approach to leisure: "They burned our churches to the ground/ But they can't buy the sunshine."
Lyrics like these have been just one part of the mystery that is Turin Brakes's success. They use safe folk-pop arrangements, exude a feel-good Simon and Garfunkel vibe, and write dewy-eyed words, yet have enjoyed a surprisingly warm reception from even the most miserly of reviewers. Not even fellow British softies Coldplay can make that claim. Unfortunately, Jackinabox pulls the rug out from this improbable run (or at least gives it a good tug), as here troubadours Ollie Knights and Gale Paridjanian sound as languorously adult alternative on the record as they appear on paper.
Turin Brakes separated themselves from similarly delicate UK bands Athlete and Travis by avoiding unvarying, schmaltzy vocals-- and on the first parts of Jackinabox that distinction holds true. With its campfire cooing and rugged chord changes, "Red Moon" is Elliott Smith on Zoloft, climaxing with the excusably optimistic chorus "If you try, you'll be alright." However this formula exhausts itself on forgettable numbers like "Forever" and "Above the Clouds", where humdrum acoustic strumming and stagnant melodies form a stale film over Knights' and Parijanian's consistently colorful harmonies.
In between these two extremes, Turin Brakes throw it on cruise control. "Asleep With the Fireflies" putzes through a Van Morrison template of a verse before launching into a funk-tinged country jamboree. "Road to Nowhere" and "Buildings Wrap Around Me" tap Nick Drake at his most bittersweet, but serve only as worthwhile fillers. In a sense Turin Brakes do little wrong on Jackinabox aside from the occasional gooey outbursts of gaiety. Though these good vibes grow monotonous, and even on downer "Last Clown" ("Last clown drinking in a bar that's about to be closed"), Knights can't hide the pep in his voice. But hey, maybe in this world of bleak Nick Hornby novels and cliffhanging mini-series drama, we need a definitively happy piece of work beginning to end. If not, I think I found the perfect Father's Day gift.
