Cold War Kids Strut Their Versatile Stuff On "Dear Miss Lonelyhearts

Like with any pursuit be it professional or hobby-based, most of us don't commit to something lightly. As The New Radicals reminded us in the late 90s "We only get what we give". The fourth release from Ohio foursome Cold War Kids shows us time and again that we're not treating those precious quadrants in the hourglass like the fancy food alluded to in the lyrics to "Tuxedos". Pushing gourmet eats into the forefront lyric wise is one of many winning arguments for why we should spend airspace with Cold War Kids. "Miracle Mile' packs a knockout punch off the bat. There isn't a single blunted edge in this song. Nathan Willett finds the "zone" so to speak and that gives him freedom to let his creative juice flow go wild. Matt Aveiro gets his aggressions worked to a lather on drums. The lyrics here make reference to the individual who wasn't raised to go seeking glory. The safety is on that ambitious weapon. Nothing innocuous about the song. No chaining this to the front porch. It pays to follow the bouncing ball wherever it leads to. One of the stellar smashes of this 10 track collection is "Loner Phase". The band's genre leans towards indie rock but you ought to be slapped around for being daft enough to wait in the corner while this thunderbolt of divine dance harmony passes overhead. Add a sliver of rock desperation and the result is a call to crowd the dance hall. As usual the simmering effect of piano is a likable precursor to the full on fusion of ear friendly beats and sharpness of attitude. Hip nightclub wardrobe is definitely preferred. The underlying personality of drum in this set varies depending on where your iPod lands. In the case of the title track you're being transported to a tribal place and time. The bongo related heaviness at the start lightens up enough to give way to a presentation that rises then pops like 4th of July firecrackers. The molasses slow vibe brings up sly memories of Joan Jett putting her spin on "Crimson and Clover". Both the remake and Tommy James & The Shondell's original proceeded at such a turtle's pace you almost had to prod the damned stereo system to get any sense the players involved even knew how to find anything other than second gear. If you're looking for the track that might lay on enough spookiness to promote future nightmares I'd like to recommend "Jailbirds". During a couple of strategically placed segments in the song this massive rush of cacophony gets churning until you've just about reached gale force unsettling. Don't be misled by the kick drum beat at the start. When you roll piano, guitar and drums in one package and then place those in the hands of a band not shy about making a jambalaya stew out of them you're bound to come up with a zingy flavor that even Pandora would climb back into her box to steer clear of. High on the menace and rightly so. The song tackles what's familiar among parents, namely how to remember not to make the kids grow up too fast. Dads should play pretend with their daughters. Mothers should be loose with their sons. This parenting thing is a tightrope act. For now they need to stay young. The stages of childhood can be private prisons depending on how rough the ride is for the people involved. "Bitter Poem" is a undiluted cry for acceptance. Just about all of us walk the face of the Earth hoping and at times praying for that on some level. The piano falls across the ground with a raindrop delicateness. Kudos to Johnnie Russell for treading gently. Nathan's frayed nerves wouldn't have penetrated our psyches with as much grit otherwise. Possibly the most priceless lyrical snippet in this batch is: "I can't wait to see what you become when you became". He just described the perils of adulthood. Since we're pretty much works in progress we don't exactly know if, as brother and sister ask Mom and Dad in the back of the car on a long road trip: "Are we there yet?" Point is you won't really know until you get there. You want to embrace Nathan when he asks the offstage main acquaintance: "Are you happy for me?" That's validation most of us seek. If we snatch the brass ring will someone in our universe be there to clap, pat us on the back, or grab us in bear hug fashion. If Matt Maust wasn't blistering the soundboards with his rootsy bass picking then "Dear Miss Lonelyhearts" would be left rudderless as a less than seaworthy vessel of artistic vision. This batch of beauties is more like 10 separate stage plays instead of indie rock heart on the sleeve confessionals. I confess you'll likely not get bored spending time with these fellas. In fact you'll probably need a towel to wipe the sweat from your brow. Astute displays of versatility, lyrically and instrumentally, will do that to a person.