The Rocket Summer, The Early Years EP
Ah, teen angst, deliverer of a thousand heartfelt youth anthems. Not knocking it, mind you — I spent many days in my youth obsessing over Superchunk’s Foolish, which is in my opinion one of the all-time classic breakup albums ever, and then started a band basically so I could sing about one particular girl, so trust me when I say I know the urge to strap on a guitar and bare your soul with power chords and a distortion pedal. And really, that’s pretty much what you get on The Rocket Summer’s The Early Years EP: loud, impassioned rock with pretty melodies, heroic choruses, and boyish vocals just this side of Davey vonBohlen. (I should note, by the way, that the “band” is apparently mostly one fresh-faced young guy named Bryce Avary. And no, the EP’s title isn’t some lame attempt at hipster irony; this is actually a reissue of Avary’s first self-recorded EP, from back in ’99-’00 or so.)
Ironically, the track that sums things up the best, “Teenage Love Rock,” also demonstrates somewhat the perils of this kind of lovelorn mopery; in short, it’s too poppy, too light, practically ephemeral, and before you know it, it’s gone, leaving you not really missing it much. “That’s What She Said” takes things a step slower and loses even more ground, coming off like a budget Jimmy Eat World. Not strictly bad, no, but not real memorable, either.
The Rocket Summer fares better when it gets faster and cranks up the volume, like on opener “So Far Away,” which is ferocious but jangly at the same time, melding the driving anthem of Buffalo Tom with the aforementioned Superchunk’s caffeinated howl. Same goes with “My Typical Angel,” a bitter rock blast that evokes Weezer’s less pretentious moments (or, hell, maybe the better ones from Blink-182), and “December Days,” which mines Promise Ring territory and comes up with gold.
Hell, even “She’s A Seven,” the lyrical conceit of which is cheesy beyond belief, does the trick when the band puts their energy behind it, very nearly channeling all those teenage UK power-pop bands from a couple of decades back. When Avary’s on, he’s on; if this was just the first step, I’m curious to see where things’ve gone since. Moral of the story, kids: when you’re displaying your scars for all the world to see, do it as loud as you freakin’ can.
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