Jeff Bridges' character in The Big Lebowski listens to Creedence and hates the fuckin' Eagles because he's a Northern California Dude in the City of Angels. On their eagerly sun-spattered debut So Much for the Cities, The Thrills sidestepped such internecine quarrels by delving a bit deeper into the state's complex psyche than, "San Diego, hey, that's where all the kids go." No one minded much, thanks to achingly low-key pop gems like the gorgeous debut single, "Big Sur". But somewhere between there and here, these Dubliners must have stumbled through Watts; lost innocence hangs over their sophomore release like San Fernando Valley smog.
Instead of Santa Cruz or Hollywood, The Thrills' continuing travelogue takes us through "New York Cit-aaaaay" (rhymes with "committ-ay," at least when you're imitating the Stones' faked American accents). That's when singer/songwriter Conor Deasy's narrator isn't going down in flames, burning bridges or dry-humping on dancefloors. Meanwhile, the record was made in Los Angeles, and "the city" looms large and desolate as the songs' backdrops. "I guess that everybody went to a better party," Deasy whines. Good for them.
Of course, So Much for the City wasn't exactly a day at the beach, either, despite the deceptively upbeat arrangements, which softly but deftly evoked The Beach Boys and Byrds. Musically, Let's Bottle Bohemia opens with a big fake-out: a killer distorted guitar riff worthy of AC/DC circa High Voltage. If this were Jet or The Vines, an exaggerated, phony scream would punctuate the second-hand rebelliousness, but instead, Deasy elegantly leads the band into a shiny midtempo rocker much like the debut's "One Horse Town". The crucial difference is the newly jaded swagger in Deasy's ever-almost-breaking voice. "The streets aren't paved with gold," he concedes, but he fights to hide how much that hurts.
Largely absent are the spacey Grandaddy synths that occasionally lent the band's debut a pleasant jolt of modernity. Instead, "Not for All the Love in the World" infuses the proceedings with a heady rush of Coldplay melodrama. Against the odds, its deliberate pacing and understated lyrics ("She didn't realize, that's a lot of love") make for a subtle highlight. Lead single "Whatever Happened to Corey Haim" is the real surprise, sounding like K.C. & The Sunshine State with absurd Three Degrees strings backing a melody fit for Ben Folds' solo work.
"Just don't change a thing," Deasy pleaded on the debut's "Deckchairs and Cigarettes". The Thrills didn't, and neither did new producer Dave Sardy, despite a resume that includes production work for Marilyn Manson, Slayer, and (shock!) Jet. But something changed them. "You can take the city," Deasy sings on "Faded Beauty Queens", which features tasteful guitar work from R.E.M.'s Peter Buck and tells one of the album's many stories of broken dreams and vanished glory (ahem, Corey Haim). They call Los Angeles the City of Angels. The Thrills didn't find it to be that, exactly. But their forlorn, polished California pop is like the sprawling Valley suburbs: nice enough, if that's your sort of thing.
