Album Review: Edward O'Connell - Feel Some Love

Last year, when I finally picked up a copy of Elvis Costello's "This Year's Model", I was surprised to see it was a newly remixed version of the record. It didn't sound exactly like I remembered, but there was something even more glaring about hearing it in this new context; it sounded.... weak? As one of the albums that set off a whole era of new-wave power-pop, hearing this cleaner version revealed just how little power the songs had when they were recorded. The limitations of the time gave us something we can't quite recreate now, even when we have more skill and talent available to us. It's just something interesting to think about.

I say this because Edward O'Connell's two albums have been akin to a continuation of that era of Elvis' career. Both records featured lovely power-pop with a similar tone of voice, and more than a little bit of sarcasm in the lyrics. There's something lush and soothing about the sound of them, something even Elvis himself was rarely able to achieve. So what does the third album bring us?

Starting off with "Golden Light", the album feels like an old friend coming back into your life. There's something soft and warm about this music, where it lopes along just enough to get your toe tapping, while the vocal harmonies echo the voice in your own head trying to sing along. Maybe it isn't 'cool' in whatever trend we're currently in, but it's the sound of a good time, which is rather timeless.

The layers of acoustic guitars and pianos give depth to the production, while the country-ish electric guitars alternate between extra texture and lyrical soloing. In that regard, there's an echo of The Jayhawks around the "Hollywood Town Hall" era, which is another of those sounds I've seldom heard replicated, let alone done well. It's nearly perfect on "I've Got A Million Of 'Em", where the weeping guitars nail the tone of the song, which also subverts expectations. The title implied to me a sarcastic kiss-off, having a million punch-lines, but it took things in the opposite direction instead. A little surprise is always a good thing.

The story of "Florida Man" dips into the age-old question about what motivates people to do stupid things, as exemplified by the meme. The answers are usually fairly simple, at least when sober, and get summed up by the line, "Was he distracted by love, or the tattoo on her birthday suit?" It also sort of ties into the theme of "All My Sins", where it's our faults and flaws that make us who we are, and things would be far too boring if we were always prim, proper, and well-behaved. We need some excitement, and someone else to laugh at.

All along, the album is a relaxing, feel-good experience. It's fifteen songs of charm, where you get sucked into the mood and tone. It's a syrupy record where the consistency is like having every bite of the waffle properly smothered, letting the sugar coat your palate. And then, when your senses might be a bit overloaded, it gives you a tart finish. In this case, that comes in the form of "MFC", which I won't spoil for you. Let's just say the acronym was exactly what I thought it would be after the first line of the song hit my ears. Certainly an unexpected way to cap things off.

I haven't listened to a lot of power-pop lately, because a lot of it doesn't sound like it understands at least one half of that term. Perhaps this record is a bit soft as well, but when it has so much effortless melody to it, that doesn't matter. Verses that could be choruses, choruses that up things even more, and a bit of whimsy to top it all off. This is the most laid-back of the three albums, but it still delivers. It's the sound of a wry smile.