Skating Club

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Dec 11, 2001

It’s hard to talk about the eponymous release from Skating Club without mentioning the weather. Singer/songwriter Aubrey Anderson has a way of crafting songs that feel awkward and out of place on these sunny December days in L.A. This is the music of fireplaces and hot chocolate, of big poofy sweaters and windows steamed up by lonely breath. For someone born and raised in the Midwest—and now gazing up at Christmas lights strung on palm trees—it is essentially homesick music.

Anderson is the quintessential Sensitive Guy, with lyrics that continually expose him at either his sweetest and/or his most vulnerable. The stories he spins—and he is a gifted storyteller—are reflective and usually somewhat melancholy slice-of-life vignettes along the lines of Hayden. The music follows suit, minimal in structure, quiet in execution.

“Foolish” is a telling example. Anderson delicately croons above a jangly, restrained lead guitar and oh-so-gentle percussion. There aren’t any killer hooks on the album, nor are there melodies that lend themselves to easy humming or whistling. And yet the album seeps in and under your skin, thanks in part to sideline contributions from bassist/keyboardist Colin Rhinesmith (see last week’s Clairvoyants review) and percussionist Bruce MacFarlane.

“Pepper Ann” is another minimalistic approach, built around little more than a basic and very slow chord progression. And yet it still works, powered by Anderson’s vocals and his command of story, in this case told through a series of halcyon memories of a faded relationship. There are no grandiose grabs for profundity, no stabs at obscurity. Instead, Anderson sings his girlfriend Elvis and then gets sick on mussels. The sharp lyricism continues throughout the album, most notably on “High Noon” and “Free Cab Rides.”

On the other end of the spectrum—not far in this case, but still on a different plain—are “G.T.I.” and “Denver,” the album’s opening pair of tracks, both of which are slightly more upbeat in melody and tempo. The latter is an especially strong track, with its charmingly quirky reminiscences like “I sidled up to the bar and asked you questions / I made them up / Twenty reasons to keep talking.”

It’s already becoming part of Anderson’s mystique that he lives on a boat in Boston Harbor. Skating Club’s final song, “The Princess and the Pea,” pays homage to his home waters. His home city, meanwhile, continues to solidify its growing reputation as purveyor of fine indie and emo goods.

To listen to selected tracks or find out how/where to purchase this album, visit http://www.skatingclub.com