In Internet years, Tokyo Police Club are just about ready for retirement. As a group of underage buddies from the Toronto suburbs, their antsy take on post-Strokes rock was an easy upload for music blogs upon the 2006 release of their snappy A Lesson in Crime EP. Back then, their chances of living beyond the next Hype Machine cycle was anyone's guess, and any notions of longevity seemed moot for a band that preferred to wrap things up around the two-minute mark. But as other 2006 indie upstarts like Annuals, Be Your Own Pet, and Voxtrot have blown up or faded away, Tokyo Police Club endure. This is not a coincidence.
For a band that originally got great mileage out of their bubbling exuberance, TPC's 2008 LP bow Elephant Shell was a relatively stately surprise. Settling into a combination of 1990s emo-pop and 00s post-punk fizz, the group were growing up quick. (Perhaps too quick for some.) Singer and bassist David Monks' yelps were now grounded in gravel, his scratchy throat specked with Conor Oberst, Britt Daniel, and even a little bit of Paul Westerberg. Meanwhile, his words were often cryptic and deathly.
On the follow-up, Champ, TPC pull back on some of the beyond-their-years seriousness. Monks is still waxing about lost time and half-sour childhood memories, but he's also referencing 90s R&B duo K-Ci & JoJo and confessing his admittedly unwise dreams of wedding a dancer or "a vegetarian who can't stand to be wrong." The album title sounds like a casual term of endearment or a floppy dog. The polished tunes give off major-chord gleam. And the album opens with two pre-school-ready superlatives: "Favourite Food" and "Favourite Colour". These guys know how to make wasted youth blister, and Champ is brimming with radio-ready, "woo hoo" hooks for a right-of-the-dial station that no longer exists. Maybe they should chat with Phoenix's product placement team.
The new album is hardly a huge leap from Elephant Shell in most senses, but it does find TPC reaching out, growing more comfortable, and letting loose. The songs are a tad longer, and they earn the time. The tempos are upticked slightly, the background vocals more freewheeling. And at the center is guitarist Josh Hook's wafting high notes and Monks, who can't figure out girls or teen dreams despite his good intentions.
"I'm on your side so introduce me to your friends," he pleads on "Boots of Danger (Wait Up)", while the surging "Big Difference" has him powering through uncertainty with the help of some pointed counter melodies from Hook: "I could get to know you better and never know you well." This comes after the lighthearted grilling of one of TPC's best yet, "Favourite Colour", which has Monks wide-eyed, asking about the little things that can mean a lot. "Tell me what's your favourite colour?" he wonders. "Tell me how's your younger brother?/ Tell me what's the very first record you owned?" There's no bitterness or sarcasm or malice in Monks' quaver. He means well, even when he doesn't know exactly what hell he means.
Ultimately, it's Monks' worn-out benevolence that most separates TPC from other buzz-bin bullshit worth no more than a few megabytes. Like how the miles-wide smile known as "Not Sick" has the band embracing their early 20s while looking back with fondness. It's all twinkle and pop, like eyeing a county fair from above. "Carolina, happy belated!" hollers Monks, "Always golden, still the greatest." It's the end of angst. And it suggests this band could be even better late. Still, it ends right on time.
