The Word Play

It’s a lot of things to a lot of people. It’s a few paragraphs that now reside in the Smithsonian museum of American History, it’s an excuse for beer swilling, raccoon hunting, Confederate flag-waving Southerners to own weapons, and it’s a debut album by the Word Play. Stumped? Of course you are. It’s The Right To Bear (Bare) Arms. And what’s most is that it’s a fun, technically sound indie rock album that defies any direct comparisons I could try and make. Though I’ll be damned if I won’t try by the end of this review, but in the meantime I suppose you’ll want to know why I think this is worth your time and money.

The name of the game here is rhythm. Be that applied to angular guitars, the oft low-key pitter patter of the snare drum, or the delicate tones of the always progressing guitars during those same low-key moments, the band's sense of rhythm is equally important as is their feeling of melody. The band never climbs far above a dull roar, but they also manage to go without losing their steam.

A strong sense of melody compliments the rhythm sections well as singer Kevin McGorey’s range and inflections lend themselves well to the often quirky, bouncy nature of the songs. This isn’t danceable, and the band stays away from synthesizers, but the grooves do put an inevitable bounce into the songs, with McGorey sounding like a more desperate version of Mike Kinsella. Vocals aside, the most interesting moments on the album come from the strings of Ian Rapnicki and McGorey, who plays guitar as well. The band infuses a jagged, dissonant post-punk rhythm section into a lot of songs that bodes just as well for them as the more relaxed, down-tempo songs that remind of American Football.

It’s not something that most people will pick up right away, as neither guitarist has any fancy solos or frantic riffing to their credit, relying on subtlety and underlying moments of brilliance to let their talent take hold. There’s nothing flashy or ostentatious about their approach; it’s complex without the slightest sense of being overwhelmed. Everything fits well together.

Where the album does falter is in the complete lack of moments that stick out above the rest. The beginning moments of “Pistols At Dawn” kick out a solid classic rock-sounding groove before McGorey’s off-kilter vocal approach kicks in to give the song some life. Nothing is spectacular, however, everything is just...good. And I suppose that’s not a bad place for a band to be at all. If future efforts expand more on individual talents, and the cohesiveness that already exists, that’s going to be a great showing for the quintet, even more worthy of your attention than this is.

This is about the time you guys can insert your own clever conclusion, because I’ve got nothing for you with this one.