Over the course of their past two albums,
Page France
have succeeded in serving up bouncy, rosy-cheeked
indie pop
that twangs like
Neutral Milk Hotel
and grins like
Gruff Rhys
, and they continue in this vein, for better or for worse, on their third effort. On the bright side, they sound more seasoned this time around; the good tracks on
Page France and the Family Telephone
are among the best written and most confident the band has come up with yet.
"Wet Dog Afternoon"
swings like
Beulah
and sparkles like
Bishop Allen
; it's hooky and smart, a perfect mix of nasal vocals, rock candy guitar licks, wistful glockenspiels, and surreal storytelling. Speaking of surreal stuff, it becomes clear by the third track that this is probably the weirdest album
have made to date; frontman
Michael Nau
draws listeners, ringmaster-style, through a circus of twinkle-toed bears, sentient violins, gun-toting angels, and rabbit-wielding magicians. This sort of sparkly eyed wonder is good in small doses, but things start to get ugly when the music reaches a saccharine pitch and the lyrics grow impenetrably cryptic. There's also a troubling sameness to some of these tracks, particularly when it comes to the last half of the disc, and that's what ultimately does this release in.
is great in small doses, especially when it comes to wily, whimsical songs like
"Be My Pianist"
or
"The Ruby Ring Man."
These songs are as good as the band's earlier stuff, if not better, and that's what makes this album feel about as sad as a soggy, over-frosted birthday cake. The whole shebang is done in by a lack of texture and too much sweetness. ~ Margaret Reges