The fundamentals of the Broken West's music are strong. Following a debut LP that clung tightly to boilerplate 60s-revisionist Cali-pop, the genial L.A. five-piece has stripped its sound down to something far more taut and rhythmically insistent for the group's sophomore effort, Now or Heaven. Consequently, at a base level the record is pretty much beyond reproach, marked by precise drumming, pulsing bass work, and an admirable use of musical space. Unfortunately, the Broken West doesn't do nearly enough with these sturdy building blocks compared to several other bands who mine similar sonic territory, and the result is merely competent pop-rock that routinely fails to rise above its foundations.
That's not the case with the record's opening track, "Gwen, Now and Then", a mostly unreplicated model of momentum, drive, and windswept cool. The lyrics are throwaways, but the way the hook hurtles forward speaks more to the joys of barreling down the highway with the windows down than any of this album's actual words speak to subjects like love and loss. Following that captivating opener, however, Now or Heaven largely loses sight of popcraft and gets overly preoccupied by atmosphere and suggestion instead. It'd be a forgivable trade-off if the Broken West could use its newfound love of minimalist grooves to conjure up sex and menace like, say, Spoon, but something's holding the group back. Mainly I think it might be Ross Flournoy's vocals, which can't help incongruently signifying boyish blitheness no matter how hard the band strives to moodily seethe beneath him. Sterling influences inform songs that fall just short of their marks-- Flournoy claims the Knife inspired "House of Lies", yet it comes off as beefy 80s AOR fodder (albeit pretty successfully), while the apparently Prince-beholden "Got It Bad" misses frustrated desire and settles for slight peevishness.
But hey, these guys have been touring with the National and the Walkmen, and clearly picked up some pointers, judging from the tight-as-hell high-hat-riding "Terror For Two" and elegantly spare "Elm City". Again, however, the scuff and seediness of those bands doesn't really suit the Broken West, not when the band is busy emulating the Shins on "The Smartest Man Alive". Given the far sunnier cast of the group's debut, it's fair to say Now or Heaven is a document of growing pains. Perhaps realizing that guileless jangle-pop is a 21st century creative dead end, the Broken West are encouragingly moving towards something darker and more mature, but for the time being remain stuck in an uncomfortable middle ground, aiming to unnerve but managing for now only to slightly unsettle.
