Pitchfork

Though sometimes dismissed as a bald, ugly crusader of one-note mope, Mark Eitzel can be a bald, ugly bastion of hope-- his romantic ideals so pure in theory that the characters in his tales can't help but fall short. Yet, foiled by comatose backdrops and sagging intensity, his seventh solo venture acts as parody, falling prey to the sad sack stereotypes. After 2001's excellent, electro-acoustic hybrid The Invisible Man, Eitzel's muse seemed lost, following that record with a covers album and an LP of re-recordings of his own work. But when the singer reunited with his American Music Club mates in 2004, the move stirred his creative juices, resulting in the better-than-average "we're back!" disc, Love Songs For Patriots.

So, with AMC mk. II still going strong, why another solo CD? As the singer recently told Magnet, "I didn't intend to make Candy Ass...my management kind of forced me to release it. I was going to release it only on the Web. So I'm a candy ass for releasing the damn thing." Known for his self-deprecation, the comment could plausibly be laughed off. Too bad the album's poky mix of snail-slow blip-ballads and insignificant, shimmering non-starters make the self-immolating sentiments ring true.

Expounding on previous forays into Warp-y electronics, the record's four instrumentals underwhelm, coming across as wallpaper-ready mediocrity. Parts of an original film score, the pieces lack context here-- especially for an artist known for his stellar vocals and painstaking, dry lyricism. Making a Mark Eitzel song without his distinct croon is like casting Al Pacino as an extra in a movie-- pointlessly antithetical and silly.

With few exceptions, the more traditional songs don't fare much better, with many feeling like dour Invisible Man leftovers. The best lyric comes courtesy of opener "My Pet Rat St. Michael", about a depressed rodent named after the superhero archangel John Travolta once embodied. "He would hang himself except he already chewed threw his rope," quips the singer in a knowing near whisper. Spare and fierce-- the closing "you got to fight for it" refrain speaks to Eitzel's unlikely determination-- it's vintage, safe, and solid. But his typical outbursts of lung-popping passion are totally absent, replaced by a passive, sedate vocal delivery. Consequently, listless wisps like "Sleeping Beauty", "Homeland Pastoral", and "Roll Away My Stone" casually float into alternative adult contemporary purgatory.

In another bit from Magnet's Q&A, Eitzel talks about the next AMC record, "One song title is 'God I Miss You, You Fat Old Bitch'; it's about Santa Claus, written from the perspective of his boyfriend." If that tidbit is indeed as true and on target as his Candy Ass derision, Eitzel's next act should have no problem blowing away this crushing bore of a detour.