Pitchfork

When we last left our heroes, they were hard at work combating the forces of awkwardness, excess, and ugliness in pop music. With fluttering, fluid guitar lines, gently-delivered vocals, and lyrics that crave to be described by some compound adjective containing the word "heart," the Buddyrevelles' debut record, September, November, was a thoroughly engaging pop album.

Right now, you're probably looking at that first paragraph rather skeptically. "Wait," you say. "'Buddyrevelles? Calendar months? Compound adjectives?' That sounds like..." Yeah, yeah. "That sounds like emo!" Well, it's not. Granted, it can be characterized as "emotional music," but the Buddyrevelles are closer in essence to Built to Spill than to genitally deficient Deep Elm diary scribblers.

Indeed, a comparison to There's Nothing Wrong With Love-era Built to Spill seems awfully appropriate when describing the Buddyrevelles. Their second full-length, American Matador, opens with the elegant, Martsch-esque guitar meanderings of "One, Two," a song that ranks right up there with the best of September, November in terms of pure pop accessibility. Singer Aaron Grant's delivery is instantly moving and refreshing, 100% free of any degree of pretense or rehearsed theatrics. It's not the kind of voice you'd necessarily expect to hear on an indie pop album, and that's exactly why it works.

"One, Two" is a perfect example of the benefits resulting from the slightly thicker, more complex sound the band has chosen to explore on their latest record. Time changes, layered guitars, and a generally expanded musical vocabulary make American Matador's better moments a true step forward for an already excellent band.

Unfortunately, one element of the new, "ultra" Buddyrevelles sound prevents American Matador from reaching its full potential, and from living up to its predecessor. Bassist/vocalist Scott Hoch, whose voice bears a striking resemblance to his instrument of choice, plays the Calvin Johnson to Grant's Doug Martsch. On September, November, Hoch's vocals served only to accentuate Grant's sublime delivery, but on American Matador, the two vocalists never really seem to merge well together, giving the album an oddly disjointed sound that at times borders on schizophrenic. For example, "I'll Take You in My Car" features one of the most excellent moments on the record, and one which exemplifies the band's strengths: as the trio ruminates on chord after lovely chord, Grant belts out in crystalline vocals, "It's a sinking feeling/ It's worth saving." Hoch's accompanying vocal part, including infinitely less riveting lyrics like, "I'm driving/ I'm lonely/ When I drive, I drive with you," detract somewhat from the beauty of the song.

Aside from Hoch's vocal accompaniment, the augmented sound of American Matador seems, at times, less compelling than their debut, simply because it's more abstract and mathematical. Whereas September, November was a direct pop album that cut right to the chase, American Matador may take a few listens before it reaches maximum impact. But these are pretty minor gripes when stacked against the engaging hooks of songs like "At Least Ten Years" and "That Does Not Make Sense." And when the grand finale arrives, and drummer Dan Reinholdt's kit explodes like fireworks, any conceivable doubt disintegrates: American Matador is an awesome record. If tracks like the flat-out gorgeous instrumental closer, "The Ender," are any indication, the Buddyrevelles have a spectacular future ahead of them.