Scruffy singer-songwriter re-creates the heyday of California
rock.
DAY I FORGOT ***
Pete Yorn's musicforthemorningafter went gold last year
on its old-is-new vibe of solid but imperfect rock: guitars and
drums kicking and cooing without space-age airs, synth maneuvers
or any other post-1974 inventions. Although he presented himself
as a singer-songwriter, it was the craggy charisma of his music
that won Yorn a fan club. His rough-hewn voice was the sound of
many missed shaves.
On the first eight songs of Day I Forgot, Yorn - raised
in New Jersey but making music in L.A. - drives home the same
approach, now at a high speed. Emotionally, he shuns
complication. In "Crystal Village," a relationship appears
better and more truthful now that it's over; in "Committed" his
friends flake on him or outright lie.
But the sound of these songs, produced by Scott Litt (R.E.M.),
is something else entirely: a whiz-bang jukebox of
state-of-the-art West Coast scruff-rock. In "Crystal Village,"
Yorn, accompanied by fast guitar tinklings, alternates sweet
choruses with exploding verses where the guitars turn snarlish,
as if airlifted in from metal sessions.
Between "Carlos (Don't Let It Go to Your Head)," an unmelodic
romantic obsession which recalls the Smiths, and "Burrito,"
which whips around with Ramones-like velocity, Day I Forgot
keeps bearing down and stretching out. The music is a fond
remembrance of L.A. rock, as heard on a summer afternoon before
MTV. As the Eagles and Fleetwood Mac plot reunion tours with
their accountants, and Tom Petty turns into a scolding pop of
rock virtue, Yorn plays the game with smarts, vigor and a
minimum of razors.
Pete Yorn's Current Listening:
The Stooges - The Stooges
The Clientele - Suburban Light |