Pop-inclined Rogue Wave wards off the genre-hoppers

Mike Newmark Assistant Arts Editor

Rogue Wave does not play dance-punk. They don’t have a new-wave fetish, and there isn’t a hardcore bone in their bodies. They’re not aping the Boredoms or Joy Division, and they’ll probably be the first to admit that they’re not “cool” like Animal Collective or the Black Dice. What they’re all about is great, catchy pop—pure and simple.

The term “pop” is admittedly a bit vague. It’s the middle of the decade, and pop currently exists in a few forms. There’s the tweeny pop of Ashlee Simpson and the waterlogged, introspective pop of Death Cab for Cutie. In addition, the indie community has embraced the likes of Super Furry Animals and Architecture in Helsinki as unlikely pop revolutionaries—bands that genre-hop as often as swingers bar-hop. Rogue Wave, by contrast, harks back to the halcyon days of mid-90s pop, when bands scored points not by how many instruments or genres they squeezed in, but by how seamlessly the elements came together and, ultimately, how the songs felt.

Descended Like Vultures, Rogue Wave’s second album for Sub Pop, feels tremendously good. The key is its straightforwardness; behind the synthesizers and effects is a batch of confident, well crafted, guitar-led pop songs. There exists a wonderful equilibrium between acoustic and electronic instrumentation, where electronics serve the songs rather than distract us from them. Not since Broken Social Scene’s You Forgot It In People have simplicity and eclecticism been married so peacefully.

Rogue Wave’s debut, Out of the Shadow, was created from tapes that singer/guitarist Zach Rogue recorded by himself, to which drummer Pat Spurgeon, keyboardist Gram Lebron and bassist Sonya Westcott added their own touches later on. Their chemistry was apparently so good that they decided to give it a go as a full band (Westcott was replaced by Evan Farrell for this release). That Descended Like Vultures is the result of four musicians interacting as one unit inside the studio is apparent in the record’s tightness.

The album boasts a fuller sound than its predecessor, and while it may lack Out of the Shadow’s homespun, DIY aesthetic, the songs here are a bit more complex and fleshed out. With its joyous synth-guitar blend, the power-pop gem “Publish My Love” evokes 1994-era Weezer so perfectly that you can practically hear the thuds of a 2005-era Rivers Cuomo kicking himself. “Are You On My Side” makes fine use of shimmering guitars and wafting keyboards that, when taken together, give the song angelic wings. And “You” is so nakedly emotional that it flies directly in the face of nearly every whiny, synthetic emo band playing today.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with genre-hopping, and it works well for many bands, but it seems that just sounding good doesn’t suffice in the “experimental 2000s.” Genre-hoppers will probably continue to impress critics, who will admire them for their audacity, as well as fanboys, who will bask in the reflected glow of the band’s supposed awesomeness. I fear the day when avant-folk-dance-thrash-minimalist-funk bands become the norm, but if that day comes, Descended Like Vultures will remind us that there are simpler ways for music to reward.