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I’ll start off by saying that after just one
listen to Yours To Keep, I was a fan of
Albert Hammond, Jr. This feeling
was intensified many times over after seeing him
three times at the 2007 SXSW.
I was pretty excited to hear his new stuff, but
I can’t say that I was blown away as I was
the first time. It also looks like his first record
deal with New Line/Scratchie, owned by James Iha
(former Smashing Pumpkins guitarist) and Adam
Schlesinger, was a one-time deal. It doesn’t
look like the label has done much since their
2007 SXSW showcase, so that may be why Hammond
jumped in bed with Red Ink.
Back to the album. Hammond’s orchestration,
guitar skills and craft for songwriting still
shine bright on ¿Como Te Llama?,
but if you want to take that question literally,
there are occasions of heart thumping, fair-to-midland,
and others that feel like déjà vu.
When the guitar invasion on “Lisa”
came in during the chorus I almost thought I’d
left one of my IE pages on a MySpace profile that
had gotten stuck and just started playing at random
(and you know what I mean about the “loading”
forever status on many band pages). While the
intricacy of the instrumentation is commendable,
his vocals seemed to be drowned out by this (like
the mixing guy fell asleep at the wheel), and
throughout the song I felt like he was stuck in
the bathroom while the other band members were
rocking in the living room with the rest of the
party.
Speaking of party, the basslines and deep beats
of the front stage drum rhythms on “Victory
at Monterey” make for a very groovy time,
prime for a Ting Tings or Spank Rock remix. It’s
also the stand out track that is most separate
from Yours To Keep (as opposed to “You
Won’t Be Falling For This,” “G-Up”
and “In My Room”) or his past musical
history.
I could say the same about the tides of “Boss
America” seem to pay tribute to late ‘60s,
early ‘70s American rock, with a four-to-the-floor
drive, complete with feathered roach clip attached
to the rear view mirror and touches of cow bell.
Or the ska-esque, early Elvis Costello vapor that
presides over “Borrowed Time,” which
shifts favorably to the happy, sunny, signature
Hammond glow.
As the only instrumental in the group, “Spooky
Couch” is a perfect song to be set on repeat
for a hangover Sunday or lazy afternoon in a hammock.
And the guitar lines in “GFC” spotlight
Hammond’s ethereal grace.
¿Como Te Llama? in no way falls
into the sophomore slump category, it just feels
void of those hooks from Hammond’s first
solo venture that sunk deep into this listener’s
cranium and heart.
www.myspace.com/alberthammondjr
-Kim Owens, July 9, 2008
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