No matter how hard the Powers That Be might try to suppress it, the desolate nighttime streets of suburbia will always echo with music-- just as sure as they will never truly be desolate. After all, what's a suburb without a legion of teenagers cruising the well-trimmed boulevards-- numbed by boredom, aimless but intent, their windows rolled down and their stereos cranked to overcome the rushing noise of the wind hitting their faces? Imperial Teen sound a lot like those suburban young'uns: aimless but intent, satisfied with what they've got but longing for more. And though they haven't gone so far as to tell me so, it seems to me that they really want is to be the band blasting on repeat from some trapped teen's crappy stereo. They make music that's devoid of purpose and they're proud of it. Just like The Big Lebowski's would-be nihilists and that dude with the mohawk that hangs in front of the White Hen smoking cloves, Imperial Teen want you to believe they don't give a shit about anything, but something about the delivery-- be it a glint in the eye or a hint of fire in the vocals-- betrays them.
The upbeat opener to On, the third record from ex-Faith No More keyboardist Roddy Bottum and friends, is a fast-paced ditty with a racing bassline complimented by simple, subtle guitar and female "doo-be-doo's." All four band members-- two girls, two guys-- trade off the lead vocals, each with a different take on the same quick, breathy delivery. It's a race to the finish that sets a tone of urgency and import for the album that follows. Which is funny, because Imperial Teen spend most of On indulging a near-fatal case of apathy-- the kind that anyone whose formative years were spent wasting away in suburbia will know all too well.
Like the legions of lackadaisical teenagers wandering the fake neor streets, Imperial Teen is fed up to the point of madness with the seeming inconsequentiality of it all, yet comforted by the predictability and ease of suburban malaise. A recurring theme of impassivity manifests itself again and again in lines like, "Those who I speak of are my friends/ Gentlemen and gentlewomen/ Can't wait for their lives to begin/ Oh so exciting then." There's also a hint of uncertainty in the delivery-- or maybe it's a sarcastic nudge-- that suggests this scenario is more thar a little familiar to the members of Imperial Teen. On is filled with stories of people waiting for their lives to begin, about people too busy doing nothing to do much of anything, too content with the pointless parts of day-to-day life to seek an overall purpose.
The band adds yet another layer of irony by employing upbeat, catchy-as-they-come melodies to these detached, dogged narrations. The band's sound hasn't changed much since 1999's What Is Not to Love, save the addition of a few acoustic guitars and drum machines. Imperial Teen is still all about the upbeat melodies, the Pixies-flavored basslines, lots of backup female vocal harmonizing, and lustful, throaty vocals that border on self-parody. But it's effective, and the able production by Anna Waronker (ex-That Dog) and Steve McDonald (Redd Kross) beefs up the sugary tightness of their sound.
While much of the album leans toward typical rock song clichés (songs about wanting someone, losing someone, or loving someone) there are moments where uncertainty comes into play. Like any young, wistful suburbanite, Imperial Teen find themselves perplexed and intrigued by sex and issues of sexuality, and they take a small bit of pride ir their confusion. On "Million $ Man," a self-proclaimed perfect catch reads off a list of accomplishments and wonders why he's alone; or "My Spy" Schwartz delivers lines like, "We are partners in crime/ You're always the bride.../ You don't have to decide until it's light," and, "You're dating boys but you have a girlfriend on the side."
The only true passion here is for apathy itself. On "Captain," Schwartz & Co. simultaneously reject both the importance of the world around them and the possibility of success and fame as a music-making unit, matter-of-factly stating, "On the possibility/ Of us making history/ Let the captain choose the teams/ I'm not as worried as I seem." Sure, we've all heard a thousand songs like these before, but Imperial Teen aren't about innovation; they're about appreciating the ordinary, even as you long for something more. There are no bells and whistles here; no lyrics of colossal world-shattering importance.
Yet On succeeds not in spite of its simplicity, but because of it. Imperial Teen are happy with what they do, they're good at it. It's fulfilling for them, yet they're too human not to long for something more. This is music best suited for drive-thru drive-throughs and unchanging landscapes of strip malls and condos. Or better yet, for lying in the last pure patch of undeveloped land left in your suburban wasteland of choice, staring at the stars and pondering your own inability to do anything about the forward march of progress.
