Matthew Sweet
Sunshine Lies
(Shout! Factory, 2008)

There are few musical artists who have as unique a biographical profile as Matthew Sweet and such impeccable pop (in the nicest sense of the word) credentials. Not only did he join, albeit briefly, Lloyd Cole’s band, but he was actually part of Austin Powers’ band with the likes of Susanna Hoffs. Also, he joined Hoffs on a delightful collection of choice covers, Under the Covers Vol. 1, in 2006. He somehow managed to get not just guitarist Richard Lloyd but axeman Robert Quine to appear on his second album, Earth, and on the now classic 1991 album Girlfriend, an album that must be considered one of the best and most overlooked of the 1990s, as well as on several other records. He also recorded the one-off, self-titled album The Thorns with Pete Droge and Shawn Mullins, which harkened back to the day when bands had not just one or two, but three accomplished songwriters who could also create lush harmonies.

Sweet was fairly consistent in releasing albums until this decade. In fact, his newest is his first solo record in four years. It is Sweet’s unabashed affection for sunny pop with a garage-band kick that has been his own worst commercial enemy. Emerging just before grunge and alternative hit and maintaining a low profile as moody, piano-driven British bands like Radiohead and Coldplay have dominated pop, Sweet, for all his talents, has been the odd man out. And what a shame. If Matthew Sweet (what a perfect name, given his sound) was an athlete, people would say he’s a throwback. First, there are the songs: Meticulously crafted, richly textured, tuneful, and often unforgettable. Then there’s that voice, which falls somewhere between the plaintive yearning of Brian Wilson and the defiant joy of Tom Petty. Few singers today can sing so convincingly and harmonize so effortlessly. These attributes are on full display on Sweet’s welcome new album.

Appropriately titled, Sunshine Lies is a musical banquet in an age of fast-food pablum. Right from the beginning track, the also appropriately titled “Time Machine”, with its odd noises and studio trickery, it’s clear that Sweet prides himself on mining the quirkiness and possibilities of endearing classic ’60s albums. Shades of Brian Wilson and the Beatles are almost too obviously present to mention, but a more accurate reference point may be Andy Partridge and XTC, with a steely rock edge and understated odd rhythmic jolts. On “Room to Rock”, any thought that Sweet is wallowing in confectionery ’60s pop is vanquished with the dissonant guitars. The vocals are recorded so far up front in the mix that it makes one even more amazed by the man’s simple ability to sing so convincingly and forcefully. The track also makes a clear nod to the great Lenny Kaye-produced Nuggets compilation albums, as does the song “Flying.” “Byrdgirl” (note the spelling) is the flipside of the aforementioned “Room to Rock” and “Flying” with its gorgeous lush vocals.

Showing even more sides of Sweet’s sound, “Feel Fear” is more piano-based and “Let’s Love” has a Paul Weller-like heavy pop sound. The title track again recalls XTC, yet would have fit right in on The Who Sell Out. “Daisychain” is one of those songs with a familiar but elusive chorus; it almost laughingly makes one draw the conclusion that Sweet was listening to the Raspberries and Poco the day he wrote the song. On “Sunrise Eyes”, there are even some convincing “yeah yeah yeah’s” if you can believe your eyes and ears.

Don’t let these musical reference points fool you. They are subtle and overshadowed by Sweet’s own heartland sincerity and ultimately simple approach to writing, arranging, and playing his songs. This is an album to play again and again and to savor. And in the end, sweet sunshine never lies.

Listen: Various Tracks [at myspace.com]

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