Pitchfork

Living Well is likely the most cohesive album to bear Rob Crow's full name on the cover-- he of Thingy, Heavy Vegetable, collaborations with mainstream alt-metallers and underground instrumental heavyweights, Clorox Wipes commercials, novelty-metal projects named for goblin appendages, goofy solo records devoted to arcane instruments, and the perpetually almost-blowing-up-huge Pinback. No slight intended to his "day job": Pinback are where they are because they're consistent and throw very few curveballs. Fans know what to expect; critics know what to say.

Likewise, Living Well is remarkably consistent, carries plenty of commonalities with Crow's best-known project, and bears purchase if you own more than one Pinback record. Should you have never loved Pinback (if maybe you loved the quirk of his earlier projects), this record will probably leave you cold as well. Crow's worked well in many other contexts-- notably the Ladies-- because he's a remarkably talented but pop-minded and un-showy musician, and he's got that voice. On cluttered and quirky early records and side projects built on left-turns and showmanship, it's a beacon for a listener. On the pristine, nearly mathematical precision pop of Pinback, it can get a little vanilla. It's no surprise that, by himself and without a gimmick, he's made a pretty straightforward guitar pop record.

Straightforward doesn't necessarily mean dull, however. Nothing on Living Well will blow your mind, but there are several great songs and always a few details to hold your interest through the lesser moments. Crow plays every instrument here, with only occasional drums, and mostly loops and drum machines. "Bam Bam" (recorded too soon to be a tribute to late wrestler Scott "Bam Bam" Bigelow, alas), is a sparse guitar-and-voice arrangement that adds a galloping banjo in its final moments. "Over Your Heart" boasts a nearly imperceptible shift in key and rhythm, making it a serviceable pop song in passing, but more rewarding with closer attention. Even the tepid chug of "Burns" has a leaky-tire hiss and a few electronic bells and whistles, tastefully deployed to add atmosphere to what's essentially a demo throwaway. These small touches are the mark of a musician who gets bored easily, but doesn't forget his audience.

To be honest, the tracks with real drums might be less rewarding, like the jangly "Leveling" that's introduced by some infant gurgling, or the aimless strum of "Chucked". Maybe that's due to the front-loaded nature of the disc, as the smoothness of early tracks like "Taste" and "Up" are hard to deny, but the charm wears a little thin in later tracks that try too hard, like the forced gypsy-march tune "Liefeld" or the zombie-shuffle "Ring" (though there's some fun vocal manipulations near the end of that one).

Crow's not nearly as prolific as, say, Robert Pollard, but there are similarities: brevity, for one, as "I Hate You, Rob Crow" could be the catchiest 1:13 in the man's catalog (hilariously, the "single version" at the end of the record is significantly longer). And while Crow's output is a molehill to Pollard's mountain, they're both prolific, not afraid of collaboration, and always identifiable despite the new contexts they may try to shoehorn themselves into (like Goblin Cock). He may have some far less-cohesive solo records behind him, but thus far, Crow's more consistent than not, and he's maintained that ratio through all of his extracurricular projects. Living Well is a testament to that. The unpretentious photos of Crow in the cover and liners, chilling out in a fine black metal tee and posing with babies and pumpkins, is enough to let you know that this is a laid-back affair. Is Rob in a Mellow Mood occasionally predictable? Sure, but there's nothing promised here that isn't delivered on, no premise underachieved. It's exactly what you'd expect, and that shouldn't be a problem with anybody who's followed him through the years. As long as he keeps Zach Hill's number in his phone, it's not a problem with me, either.