You'll Be Glad You Checked Into Saint Motel

Let's give a round of applause for breezy pop that only seeks to entertain. distract, and give you a warm glow inside. Enter LA's Saint Motel, a four-piece outfit entrusted with said task. I'll jump in to say "No, you don't have a legitimate reason not to like "My Type". Everything sparkles resplendently. How did Dak learn to play bass in such deference to legends of Motown. I'd say his take on the instrument comprises a dreamy pop alternative to Ronson & Mars' "Uptown Funk". If you listen closely you can make out the intersection where Latin spicy and radio ready pop intersect. A/J Jackson sings as a man who knows his sole purpose for the evening is to have as grand a time as could be possible. On hand we get clanging bells that feed the already infectious fun. An approving nod goes to Greg Erwin who displays a whip smart penchant for knowing where the beats fit best and at what times to apply them. A/J certainly has the courageousness quiver in his bow and arrow collection when he openly admits his qualification for the ideal woman is appealingly simple. She needs only to have a pulse. Narrows down the field a hare doesn't it? He's a top flight analyst on sweet love. He admits it comes wearing disguises, in varying shapes and sizes. He essentially contradicts himself pointing out he's got very specific tastes then copping to the whole give me a breathing being thing. He urges we double check for double meanings. Does anybody deny he's a player? As for Aaron Sharp the way he gets maximum mileage from his guitar lends "My Type" its suave quotient. The band originally went under the moniker Turkish Rocket. Personally I find that name easier to digest than Saint Motel which comes equipped with a host of possible meanings. How about Saint Motel as a way to describe a lusty hooker. Or there's the literal interpretation of a motel filled with saints. Not one of us on this earth could out and out own sainthood so I doubt that's where this foursome was heading. You could stretch the concept further by thinking its a motel full of New Orleans Saints fans. Not likely, but fantasy and fun go hand in hand. "My Type" ought to be an ideal conversation starter at clubs, bars, possibly free flowing flash mobs. There are various instances where "My Type" urges you to let loose. The brass section begs for poured champagne. Drums too feisty to not fall in love with. Bass rife with friendly wink self-assured boastfulness. "My Type" figures to be everybody's type if everybody boils down to everybody who likes his pop heavy on unabashed celebration of woman even if we're celebrating a guy who has decided having standards is overrated.