Kate Voegele, “A Fine Mess” (Interscope/MySpace)
First things first: isn’t an actress-turned-pop star. Sure, she’s on the dreadful CW teen-soap “One Tree Hill” — playing singer-songwriter Mia — but that break came long after Voegele’s initial breakout success.
That said, Voegele’s peppy sophomore album, “A Fine Mess,” still sounds as if it were born out of a mediocre teen drama. The tepid songs stay afloat only because of the incredibly sharp production and Voegele’s charming, if inconsistent, vocals. “This Fine Mess” makes for a difficult listen, and that’s a shame because Voegele makes for an affable pop star.
Overwrought songs like “Lift Me Up” suffer from ridiculous lyrics and fickle vocals. “Manhattan From the Sky,” a bouncy piano pop tune, debuted on “One Tree Hill” and will be familiar to fans of the show. But Voegele manages the slinky, dance-pop of “99 Times” better than any of the other pop mutations on the record. — Ricardo Baca
Wentworth Kersey, “EP (O)” (Plastic Sound Supply)
Joe Kersey Sampson and Jeffrey Wentworth Stevens have contributed so much to the Denver music scene over the years that it’s no surprise they united to record their own project, .
Their sublime chemistry, however, is revelatory, sounding little like either Sampson’s various folk-rock projects or Stevens’ electro-dappled . On the second in a series of three EPs, the duo oozes a gentle sophistication and patient melodicism that sets it apart.
Opener “Adore” rolls in on waves of forlorn Southwestern horns, synths and nylon- stringed guitar. “Wealth” is a grittier Nick Drake with symphonic touches redolent of “Sgt. Pepper’s”-era Beatles. Formless, haunting instrumentals such as “Teton Mountains” and “Empty Mall/Dead Mall” work better as ambient music for midnight road trips, while “Brief Symphony” and “Wild” have borderline optimistic tints.
If you’re looking for concrete evidence of Denver’s ballyhooed music scene, it’s here. — John Wenzel
This EP is free with any purchase this week at St. Mark’s Coffee House, 2019 E. 17th Ave., while supplies last.
Iron & Wine, “Around the Well” (Sub Pop)
Watching Sam Beam open for Flight of the Conchords at Red Rocks on Saturday () was amazing. Beam, the man behind , captured a packed amphitheater with only his voice and acoustic guitar — a feat made all the more impressive, given that he was opening for his labelmates, a music-comedy duo.
Several of Beam’s hushed musings, which included a couple of songs (including his quiet, stilted cover of the Postal Service’s “Such Great Heights”) from this new, two-disc collection of B-sides.
This collection will sound familiar to fans who have followed Beam since the rock club days. Some of the songs on the first disc stretch back to the band’s beginnings in 2002. Beam helped engineer the “quiet revolution,” which is benefitting national acts (Bon Iver) and Denver acts (the Wheel) alike.
Beam has a way of making covers his own, as he proves on the Flaming Lips’ “Waitin’ for a Superman” and New Order’s “Love Vigilantes.” But the originals on here are just as enjoyable. — Ricardo Baca
Bachelorette, “My Electric Family” (Drag City)
The foggy accent that greets you in the first moments of acts as spirit guide through an album that wears its identity like a chrysalis, unzipping right down the middle to reveal its dual personas. In other words, if you don’t like it at first, wait a minute.
The record spends most of its time sashaying between adventure and domesticity, with one foot in snow-day wistfulness and the other in a strange, sparkling Tomorrowland resembling Bjork’s teenage subconscious. The sound displays an unabashed romance with the past, sewing up ’80s synthetics with dreamy ’90s ether and a ’70s wiggle-walk. When it favors stratospheric chorals and sweet electronic arpeggios, it is as prim and modern as the pixie-coiffed girl you fantasize about on the subway. Inevitably, however, you are coaxed down to earth with the earnest gestures of the guitar — an instrument somewhat out of place on an album that draws its strength from capricious electronic glitter.
One of the most pleasurably straightforward tracks is “Technology Boy,” whose artificial murmur owes a valentine to Kraftwerk’s “Autobahn.” Here, the fluid eclecticism is absent; the music, for a moment, rests and concentrates. Quick on its heels is “Dream Sequence,” whose palling-around with horns immediately breaks up the reverie; then, as if to apologize, the sun-dappled “Donkey” shuffles forth for a stroll under a Vaseline’d lens.
The notable tricks of “My Electric Family” are airy octave-scaling, the occasional grand gesture, and traipses through a sleek but dated version of the future — perhaps one populated by kindly female androids. It’s a pretty record, although the mind wanders easily. It seems as though Bachelorette’s Annabel Alpers was eager to play with all the wonderful toys available to her; nevertheless, there is a genuine, phosphorous joy evident in her compositions. — Alex Edgeworth
John Wenzel is the co-editor of Reverb and an arts and entertainment writer for The Denver Post. He recently published the book and edits the blog.
Ricardo Baca is the founder and co-editor of and an award-winning critic and journalist at The Denver Post. He is also the executive director of the , Colorado’s premier festival of local music. Follow his whimsies at , his live music habit at and his iTunes addictions at .
Alex Edgeworth is a Denver freelance writer and regular contributor to Reverb.
