Simplicity is arguably one of the most important virtues of indie pop, and one that Seattle's Seapony take to heart on Go With Me: 12 songs in 34 minutes, all written in major keys. Pillowy guitars (courtesy of Danny Rowland), humble basslines (Ian Brewer), and airy vocals (Jen Weidl) all float calmly over uncomplicated drum machine beats. Light touches of fuzz and reverb give it an overcast feeling, making this summer record sound weirdly autumnal. Go With Me is filled with childlike melancholy and wonderment, like a lot of twee records. But ultimately, it leaves you to wonder what Seapony are actually contributing to the vast expanse of bands clutching Tiger Trap 45s and portable button makers.
The album starts on the right foot with "Dreaming", a jaunty, infectious tune with a spiky guitar line and a simple-yet-irresistible vocal melody from Weidl. "Into the Sea"'s easygoing surf-rock is punctuated by handclaps and a nimble-fingered arpeggio. "I Never Would" goes a long way with its permeating sense of wistful nostalgia. If Go With Me were an EP with just those three songs, it would possess a great deal more replay value.
Go With Me makes for wonderful background music, but paying closer attention reveals its inherent flaws. The sameness of the songs causes them to bleed into each other, never deviating from the same verse-chorus-verse template. This wouldn't particularly be a problem if the album weren't so safe, if its pleasant happiness or pleasant sadness were disrupted by a more excitable sense of emotion. Weidl delivers the lyrics with the same wispy soprano on every song.
It doesn't help that those words aren't very interesting. Injecting simplicity into pop songwriting isn't always a clichéd effort-- take Girls' "Laura", for instance-- but banalities like "Blue Star"'s opening couplet, "You sat by me/ You sat down by the sea," sully an otherwise decent song, and the chorus of "So Low" ("I miss you every day/ I wish you'd stay") makes Rebecca Black look like Dan Bejar.
The best indie pop always finds a way to marry a sense of individuality to its jangle and bounce-- the violent noise underscoring Black Tambourine's output, or the literary flair and sometimes-subversive humor that marks Belle and Sebastian's. Think about the heart-wrenching, lacerating sadness of the Softies, or even the confrontational cuteness of Tullycraft. Unfortunately, the vanilla innocuousness of Seapony loses them in the shuffle. This is not to say they have delivered an utterly charmless album. If your anorak pockets are stuffed with indie pop show flyers, or you are a daily reader of Skatterbrain, Go With Me has a place in your record collection. But until they can really stand out from the crowd, Seapony just come across as garden-variety twee.
