First, a confession. I recall avoiding Robert Gomez's last album, 2005's Etherville, because it arrived emblazoned with a sticker proclaiming the presence of special guest Norah Jones. At least that's how I remember it. This wasn't because of any antipathy toward Jones, but simply because it felt like such a brazen display of opportunism, as if the presence of the jazz/pop darling (who apparently once dated Gomez's roommate) alone was enough to lure anyone to the disc. If Gomez was any good, I figured, he or his label wouldn't have resorted to such desperate attention-getting measures.
Needless to say, my decision was wholly unfair, and somewhere in the back of my mind I felt bad about it. No one gets to choose their fans, and besides, Jones seemed like a genuine supporter, showing up to watch the Texas-based Gomez and singing along to boot. So in a roundabout sense it was still Jones who made me give Robert Gomez another shot-- and by that I mean a first shot. And as so often happens when irrational thoughts and irrational expectations lead to irrational actions, a fair shake evinced the folly of my misplaced suspicions. It turns out Jones-- and more than a few others-- were onto something.
Astute readers might cite Norah Jones as misdirection, or at least a red herring, compared to the news that Denton, Texas, home of Centro-matic, Midlake, and others, has catapulted yet another would-be hero up from its ranks. Brand New Towns, Gomez's second rock album, also marks his debut for Simon Raymonde's Bella Union imprint, and as such stands to gain the songwriter a few new fans, at least among those predisposed to trust the "cooler" taste of former Cocteau Twin (and Denton booster) Raymonde.
Like Midlake, Gomez has an odd pedigree-- he had a stint in a circus and also studied Cuban music. Also like Midlake, those strange résumé builders have given way to a 1970s AOR fixation, specifically the smooth Fab Four-fixated pop of ELO, plus a bit of the Beatles' dark stuff, by way of Beatles-nut Elliott Smith, a looming, unavoidable influence.
The lush and quietly quirky tracks that lead off Brand New Towns-- "Closer Still" and "All We Got"-- wouldn't be out of place on any of Smith's later albums, where his recording budgets caught up with his ambitions and he was better able to emulate the instrumentation and techniques of his idols. Gomez has Smith's double-tracked whispered vocals down, too, though he self-consciously camouflages them midrange in the mix.
"The Same Sad Song", despite the title, is peppier stuff, as is "Back to Me", more Jeff Lynne in mood, melody, and approach. The album vacillates between those two styles, with Smith's ghost haunting "Perfect" ("...without me," goes the downer lyrical kicker) and "If I Could Have You Back", while "Mistress" and "You Need Somebody" explore the sunnier, slightly more optimistic side of misery.
There are no stinkers in the bunch, and a couple of stunners, but ultimately Gomez shows himself a better craftsman than songwriter. The tunes, quality or not, start to blend together, the pacing begins to drag, and the buried vocals disguise what may be the key contextual/conceptual glue holding the whole thing together. But Brand New Towns is still pretty impressive, even when it's not much more than simply pretty. With a lot of Texas singer/songwriter types still trying to be the brand new Townes, it's always welcome to hear someone with different ambitions. Granted, they're perhaps ambitions no less difficult to realize, but Gomez sounds up to the challenge.
