One of the major tenets of evolutionary theory involves the joining of two previously separated groups of creatures, their mating, and the eventual emergence of a third and entirely original species. Of course, this thought can be applied to the evolution of music, too, although musical speciation is not limited to the traditional one-on-one mating structure, but instead can engage in full-on gangbangs, producing children of such depraved moral fiber as the world has never before known. Low Glider Bus Rider, Blume's debut, is clearly the reprobate child of such a sonic orgy; melding folk-rock with intermittent turn-table scratching and lounge beats, the album's only plausible points of reference are Beck's earlier efforts or the Beta Band's completely disjointed debut.
With such an idiosyncratic effort, the disc's only unifying theme is the base emphasis on acoustic guitar, as well as predominant vocalist Joel Blum's underlying lyrical neuroses. From the westernized "Flying", crafted with the aid of Americana pedal steel specialist Bob Egan (Wilco/Freakwater), to "You Me & The Dirt", the Sting-meets-Grandmaster-Flash opening number, and the Paul's Boutique-inspired "Jive Turkey", the band seems to have made a conscious effort to sequence each song between its polar opposites. At some points, the disc sounds more like a compilation than a succinct collection of songs, but the overall feel works -- though it demands active listening.
Low Glider Bus Rider creates a mercurial stylistic equilibrium, with the Rob Thomas/Santana collaboration on the right and a complete amalgamation overload on the left. While the band successfully walks the line for most of the albums, a few of the songs lack the buoyant pop feel of the disc's strongest tracks, and seem to have been tacked on for no better reason than to pad the running time. Clunkers aside, however, Low Glider Bus Rider is a refreshing listen, matching the unhindered and infectious energy that permeates other standout pop records.
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