Most of the time, cramming bands into geographic pigeonholes is a worthless exercise. Check the NYC chirping of yesteryear, when every post-punkish, well-dressed pack of players was unknowingly smooshed into context with The Velvet Underground, or even more awesomely, The Strokes. Some bands found their sound stupidly oversimplified, all of their peripheral influences spontaneously discounted in favor of press-ready convenience; other groups became unnecessarily puffed-up, needlessly sucked into a massive wave of buzz. Considering that most music fans weren't exactly pining away for another hollow, hype-heavy pseudo-scene, nor desperately awaiting news of another nonexistent city-based community, the band-as-local-spokesperson paradigm seemed (and continues to seem) like an especially dumb approach.
San Francisco's Oranger might not be subject to the same kind of vacuum-seal as their East Coast brethren, but, like an awful lot of California-based bands with Brian Wilson/Gram Parsons cassettes overflowing their glove compartments, they still somehow perfectly embody the sea-salted landscape that spawned them. Oranger's breezy, 60s-inspired psych-pop borrows the classic California recipe of mixing guitar fuzz and sunny melodies; even their name seems designed to champion their decidedly West Coast roots. Oranger are postcard-ready California iconography.
Shutdown the Sun is Oranger's third full-length, and their tightest effort to date: Abandoning some of the meandering, neo-psych tendencies of their past, Shutdown is packed with solid, intricately structured pop songs, each cut boasting a brassy, AM-radio throwback tinge. Singer/guitarist Mike Drake is the band's sole songwriter, and his vision includes plenty of Beatlesque melodies and soft, lilting choruses-- but what's most interesting about Shutdown the Sun is the record's versatility (a trait easily attributable to Drake's flexibility as a songwriter), and its accompanying cohesion, flitting seamlessly between tones (stands range from straightforward indie-pop to shaky, freewheeling garage riffage).
The record's title track is a carefree, harmony-heavy bit of sun-song that lovingly descends into a closing freakout just spastic enough to distinguish the band from their by-the-books contemporaries (see Rooney, etc). "Sweet Goodbye" is all jangle and romp, its frantic keys and unapologetic guitar solo providing both point and counterpoint to the Rolling Stones; opener "Cut Off Yer Thumbs" features glorious pedal steel whines (guest-played by Chris "The Texican" Heinrich) and plenty of salty guitar twang, layered over enough soft drone and feedback to satiate even the most frigid lovers of post-rock. Which is all to say that Oranger are at their best when they deviate from standard indie-pop formula-- the more obvious tracks (see "Going Under") tend to do little other than bog the album down.
The first 3000 copies of Shutdown the Sun come complete with a staggering 34-track bonus disc, comprised of rare and/or unreleased songs recorded between 1998-2002. Designed, presumably, to showcase the band's more experimental tendencies, From the Ashes of Electric Elves is an interesting side dish to Shutdown the Sun, but not an especially necessary one. Fortunately, the record stands alone: Oranger have managed to shove thick ocean breezes, cloudless skies, and California languor into every note they play, creating an album that's as appealing as it is light.
