Put on Magneta Lane's second album, Gambling With God, and you might think that you accidentally tapped into an alt-rock radio station frequency from 1995. The band's crunchy sound and ready-for-airplay hooks recall FM glory days when bands like Veruca Salt and Letters to Cleo were rattling around the buzz bin.
What could be merely a retro exercise actually turns out to be a pretty fun rock record. Borrowing from the 1990s isn't exactly novel at this point, but indie bands of late have been more likely to pilfer from noisy independent labels like Slumberland and Siltbreeze. The kind of guitar rock Magneta Lane favor doesn't have these signifiers, but is instead slick, methodical, and, if done right, crazy catchy. And Gambling With God is that sound "done right," almost to a fault. Even fans of the band's previous two releases, 2004's debut EP The Constant Lover and 2006's Dancing With Daggers LP, might have some trouble with the production here. Magneta Lane's songwriting has always been straightforward, but their sound used to have an edge of punky danger, supplied mainly by guitarist Lexi Valentine's rough-around-the-edges riffs. Any elements of tension have been sanded down on Gambling With God until they're smooth as marble.
The bright sheen on the tracks is an adjustment. And when paired with the heard-it-before opening chords on first track "Lady Bones", it definitely causes the record to get off on the wrong foot. But stick with it, and you'll find that Magneta Lane have hooks to spare. The first three tracks, particularly "Lady Bones" and "Castles", are instantly earworm-y, and even more pleasantly so if you can manage to tune out the lyrics. Other elements are engaging throwbacks to earlier styles, like the chugging rhythm and fluid melody on the title track, which are reminiscent of the Pretenders' "Back on the Chain Gang".
It's fun stuff, but also best enjoyed in small doses, as a front-to-back listen of Gambling With God comes off as a little samey. The fact that the lone "slow jam" here is a momentum killer (the acoustic album centerpiece "September Came") is another hurdle. But clear it and you'll reach album standout, "Bloody French", which does away with a conventional verse-chorus-verse structure for a constantly shifting melody and rolling drums. The effect here is akin to someone changing the radio station without asking first-- it's unexpectedly pleasant, but what you were listening to before wasn't too bad either.
