Tobin Sprout -- Hipster Music

Carnival Boy

There's no mistaking this for anything else but a Guided by Voices solo project. Granted Tobin Sprout just doesn't have the swagger in his music that Bob Pollard does. His tunes are just a little more twee, a little more melodic, a little less obtusely pounding. He is the Beatles to Pollard's Stones. He doesn't want to be the microphone-swinging front man. He wants to be the singer songwriter who pens beautiful, timeless tunes through a blanket of fuzz. Despite their differences, it's their similarities that made Guided by Voices such an indie rock powerhouse. Like the balance of other bands with dual frontmen, earlier GBV benefited from the occasional change of pace brought on by Sprout. The issue for him, of course, was that it quickly became evident that it was Pollard's band, and that there wasn't enough room for two top bananas. So Sprout went off and wrote this quiet little album of pretty pop songs that sound a lot like tunes he most likely penned for GBV albums that never happened-or they happened, just without his contributions. This is actually a decent little album. Not stunning by any stretch, but it makes you wonder what would have happened if Sprout was allowed to spread his wings a little more inside of the band construct.

Let's Welcome the Circus People

Look I'm Pink Floyd or something. For his third solo album, Sprout returns to the whole kiddie-themed thing (circuses and carnivals, oh boy!) I'm not really sure if this guy just ran out of ideas, or was going for something different, but this album just runs out of steam about two tracks in. Seriously, he may have blown his load on his first two solo albums, after being stifled by Bob Pollard for all those years. His "I'll show him!" turned into an "Oh, crap, I'm out of ideas." There are actually a few embarrassing songs on here, like "Liquor Bag," which sounds like a duet with a drunk Tom Petty. And the rest of the album just kind of blends into itself and becomes a puddle of mush. Now I know how George Harrison must have felt.

Moonflower Plastic

Sprout's sophomore effort starts in outer space somewhere, with a hum that made me think my headphones had broken. The rest of the album just kind of settles into the post-Beatles thing and rides the wave of semi-nostalgia to its logical conclusion. Again, this album isn't bad, but it lacks something that I can't quite put my finger on. Ooh, I got it: hooks. The guy can write a nice tune, and really has a nice aesthetic, but he just seems to swerve when he's about to hit the mark. So instead of being classic, it's just nice. Toe-tapping? Sure. Head bobbing? Not so much. There are times where you just want to grab the amp and crank it for him, add some crackle to his pop. So we have a nice collection of pop songs, the energy of which ebbs and flows a little too much, but makes for an overall pleasant record of relatively memorable tunes that make an impression, but not much impact.