Machine Go Boom, Music For Parents

Sometimes, little children, prayers do get answered. A while back, we at SCR had a weird-looking little CD in our mailbox from an Ohio-based one-man-band of sorts who called himself Machine Go Boom (okay, so apparently there were other people involved, but it sure didn’t sound like it to me). The album, Thank You Captain Obvious, very nearly bowled me over as soon as I pressed “Play,” careening in like a ten-year-old pumped full of sugar and armed with several cans of spraypaint. The songs were frighteningly addictive, mostly nonsensical, and utterly great, and I had the depressing feeling that I’d never hear a thing from Machine Go Boom (or semi-eponymous frontman/lone band member Mikey Machine) ever again.

Fortunately, I was mistaken. A year or two on down the line, and here’s Machine Go Boom’s followup, Music For Parents, sitting on my doorstep. And it’s…well, different, at least at first. This time out it feels like MGB are actually a band in more than just name, especially on tracks like “Niagara Falls,” where they amp what could’ve been just a melancholy little pop song into a Bob Mould-worthy raveup with awesomely roaring guitars and keys. And hey, I’m perfectly fine with that — they sound great, and the other folks in the band filter Machine’s creative genius a bit and weed out a lot of what would otherwise be filler.

More surprising is songwriter/guitarist/etc. Mike Machine’s shift away from the high-pitched, crazed-sounding vocals that were everywhere on Captain Obvious, not to mention his slowing the pace a bit and trying to get a little more thoughtful on some of the songs. Take the opener, “Small,” for instance — rather than kicking in the door with gleeful abandon, the first track on Music For Parents ambles in pleasantly, sits down, and plays it somber/sweet, musing on the way things look bigger when you’re a kid. The distant drums and backing vocals and Machine’s melancholy, expressive, nearly delivery find the song in some middle ground between Shearwater and The Polyphonic Spree, and that’s quite a surprise given the guy’s past work.

Of course, it doesn’t last. “Build Me a Ladder” slams in like The Dead Milkmen covering a Buzzcocks song you’ve never heard, all frantic, pounding pop with insistent, half-insane vocals, and we’re right back in Captain Obvious territory. The feel continues through “All the Way to PA,” which is a fun as hell road song, syncopated and fast and cheerily incorporating Machine’s signature yowl. With “800 lb. Gorilla,” though, things switch up again, getting quieter and more languid, just Machine, his guitar, and some friends in the background providing much-needed handclaps.

And on it goes, skirting between the silly, slap-happy shtick Machine’s mined before and some more straightforward, often downright beautiful power-pop. And it’s awesome. Music For Parents has so many damn high points that it’s impossible to keep up. Beyond the aforementioned “Niagara Falls,” “Build Me a Ladder,” and “All the Way to PA,” there’s also “M.I.A.,” a cheery-but-embarassed, lurching, foot-stomping anthem that plays like The Veils, the great, Belly-/Sebadoh-ish drone of “Circle of Dust,” the frenzied, burning-hot “Elmer’s Glue,” and closer “Lazy Weekend,” which starts gentle and acoustic but mutates into a complex, gorgeously Beatlesque pop song that Teenage Fanclub would envy.

Along the way, I find myself reading the lyrics a heck of a lot more than I did for Captain Obvious, in part because, well, they seem to make somewhat more sense than those on the previous album did. And it hits me that damn, this Machine character is one heck of a songwriter. For one thing, while I’d first assumed the album’s title was either a bald-faced joke or maybe some sort of underhanded stab at Adult Alternative airplay, I’ve started to wonder if maybe it’s not accurate after all.

Maybe Music For Parents doesn’t mean that this album’s actually Manilow’s greatest hits, but that it’s a collection of songs about how kids feel, written from a kid’s (or at least, a young person’s) viewpoint. There’re tales of public teenage shame (“Oh My”), childhood perceptions (“Small”), escape from the family (“Parents”), and the like scattered throughout the album, and it’s not hard to think that maybe some people would better understand the pain, fear, uncertainty, and joy their kids feel on a daily basis.

Okay, so I may be reading quite a bit into what is merely an innocent, message-unfilled collection of songs; the fact remains, though, that with Music For Parents the men and women of Machine Go Boom have crafted sixteen of the catchiest, smartest, quirkiest pop songs you’re likely to ever hear. Don’t miss your chance.