Irony, but not as we like it
Several recent bands have dared to strut across the marshy ground between seriousness and pastiche (The Darkness, Circulus, Towers Of London), but rarely as anything more than a quirky marketing gimmick. So, Chicagoan art-popper Bobby Conn’s progtastic jazz-fusion album, complete with bongos and a choir singing in Latin, really sets the alarm bells ringing. And, his carefully drawn replicas of Nilsson-esque ’70s soft-pop like ‘Love Won’t Let Me Down’ nearly knock the clappers out. Conn, though, resurrects a more innocent age of rock messiahdom in order to wrestle big ideas (Scientology, stardom, toe-sucking). It’s guiltily satisfying in a bearded, nodding sort of way, but there’s little to grab on to in such an ironic hall of mirrors.