Peer Validated

Pictured: The Broken West, not big mapquest fans.

The Broken West sound like Wilco if Wilco gave up trying to change the history of rock and roll, and decided to party like drunken 14 year olds for a year. They have up-tempo songs, they have up-up tempo songs, and they have mid-tempo songs. They use sort-of-loud guitars. They have 1960s organ splashed around their album liberally. They have pretty good attitudes. All this is true.

Usually “party band” is synonymous with “sloppy, easy shit”, but The Broken West rarely, if ever, bore with simplicity. There are layers of keyboard, guitar, and tambourine, all recorded with enough microphone hiss that it sounds like you found the basement recordings of a slightly edgier Partridge Family band. These are the sorts of songs that will burrow into your head, take firm root, and only stick their metaphorical noses out in the way of whistled melodies and abnoxious out-of-tune singing to yourself. Yes, it will be embarassing.

The entire album seems to work on the philosophy that melodic, guitar driven rock will always be made better by bells, hand claps, or whatever. This works to a point, but there are times on, “I can’t go on, I’ll go on” when you just wish that they had left some of their ideas in the studio, or at least turned down the goddamned xylophone a little bit.

That being said, these guys are awesome. See them live. Go to Merge Records’ website and buy their cd. Tell their children they look beautiful. Work on their cars. You get the idea.

The Broken West - Brass Ring