Tennessee quartet Those Darlins started out as a trio-- three young women named Jessi, Kelley, and Nikki (who've all assumed the stage surname Darlin) on guitar, bass, and ukelele-- doing old-timey country music covers with clog-dancing percussion. Eventually they started writing their own songs and found an actual drummer for a self-titled 2009 debut-- a kitschy but pretty terrific album of ramshackle country and rock'n'noll suffused with punk energy and a healthy dose of "Hee Haw" humor. They sang about being proud white trash, getting drunk in the early afternoon, trying to avoid DUIs, and coming home at night soused and hungry enough to eat an entire chicken. They convinced you they were bad, wild girls, but they also lovingly covered the Carter Family and wrote a sad, beautiful song threatening any man who'd be mean to their mamas. Some of it was lightweight fare, and often hokey, but Those Darlins' debut was also a hell of a lot of fun.
It's understandable that the Darlins would want to expand beyond this classic country sensibility, and maybe scale back the yuks a bit too. Their debut was a musically slapdash affair, so it also makes sense that they'd want to grow their sound into something more resonant and nuanced. There's no reason to believe Those Darlins aren't capable of accomplishing this, but unfortunately their sophomore effort, Screws Get Loose, is a quintessential growing-pains document.
Screws Get Loose actually picks up right where the debut left off; the opening title cut is bratty and clever, and the succeeding first single is even better: "Be Your Bro" is a fun but unmistakably pointed tune about the headache of wanting to be friends with a boy without things getting sexual. For the third song, "Let U Down", drummer Linwood Regensburg takes his first lead vocal, and while he's hardly the sole culprit for what follows, his showcase augurs a bad turn for the album.
From here on out, Screws Get Loose starts sounding like the work of a retro-pop outfit, treading the same ground covered by the Raveonettes, the Donnas, and recent revivalist indie heroes Dum Dum Girls and Vivian Girls. Yet where, say, Dum Dum Girls' gauzy sound cultivates mystery, memory, and obscure longing, Those Darlins get bogged down by their increased attention to musical texture on "Mystic Mind", "Tina Said", and "Bumd". It doesn't help that these songs lack any compelling lyrics either. On the positive side of the ledger, "Boy" captures a wonderfully light, pure pop feel, while "$" and "Fatty Needs a Fix" recreate some of the wit of the debut, albeit with less enjoyable hooks. I won't say Those Darlins necessarily ought to return to their roots; they might be entirely capable of doing something great with whatever direction they choose to take. Still, that doesn't change the fact that twangy wisecracks suit them damn well.
