On their self-titled debut, the Soft Pack proved they could rock out and play it cool at the same time. The Los Angeles-by-way-of-San Diego quartet pitted bombastic rhythms against naive three-note hooks. Even when they got loud, singer/guitarist Matt Lamkin stayed cool and collected, delivering his cynical verses with a mellow slacker poise. The group's first batch of songs found a comfortable niche between the velocity of its hometown heroes, like Hot Snakes and Rocket From the Crypt, and the slanted melodicism of New Zealand indie rock gurus the Clean.
Two years in the making, the group's self-produced follow-up, Strapped, doesn't stray far from the established course, which is surprising given the record's gestation period. The band started with 80 rough sketches, 30 of which were completed, put to tape, and then whittled it down again to form the final product. The 12 tunes that made the cut suggest that, after a little bit of self-examination, the Soft Pack found the status quo perfectly palatable.
Rather than rearranging the component parts of their sound, Strapped finds the Soft Pack pursuing a strategy of sonic evolution via additional instrumentation. With its sturdy groove and jangling guitar hooks, "Second Look" could have easily slotted onto their debut. It's separated from its forebears only by the squawking of a saxophone, which turns up in time for the first chorus. On their debut, the Soft Pack's songwriting was refreshingly small-scale: A good hook and a heavy drum beat was sufficient fuel to get a song accross the finish line. On Strapped, the additional sonic window dressing-- the horns, the synth squiggles, and the wah-wah flourishes-- is never offensive, but it does feel superfluous.
But Strapped only really stumbles when the Soft Pack slow down. Lamkin is a fine vocalist, but he doesn't have much dynamic. He's either speak-singing in a calm and casual manner or, probably, busy playing guitar. So when the band drops down in intensity, his delivery gets mushy. On "Bobby Brown", Lamkin shoots for INXS-style grooviness, but comes off precious, rather than sexy. "A menace, a bad thing to be, I've seen enough, heard enough, obscenity," he sings, on the maudlin "Tallboy", before demmanding a drink. If the band pushed the BPM a little higher, the song's pointed spirit self-examination might've had more teeth.
The Soft Pack's experimental turns pan out better when they keep their foot on the gas. On album closer "Captain Ace", wobbly guitar tones and psychedelic flourishes find harmony with the band's rythm section, riding a head-bobbing rhythm to an extended outro. Long and lush isn't a bad look for the Soft Pack, so long as they're keeping the beat.
