Moonwink is the sixth LP from the Spinto Band, but only the second for myself. I, like most, came upon them on their 2006 breakthrough, Nice and Nicely Done. And Moonwink actually does sound like a second album. It pretty much follows the same plan as the last one; based on thousands of evidenced examples, the only way to do a sophomore effort is to adhere to the debut’s formula to the letter or do something wildly (and intentionally) different to prove to critics that they’re “maturing.” The Spinto Band has no desire to mature in the traditional sense. They still crank out the same old three-minute buoyant pop songs again and again, with very little variety and even fewer surprises. As a singles band, they might have a shot. Album-wise, though, they’re 0-for-2 from what I’ve heard, even if both this and Nice have enough charms to give them a pass.
Sucking on sourballs might be a good tonic for Moonwink, since the whole thing is like gobbling down cotton candy. Even when they’re slightly melancholic (the success-is-fleeting ditty, “They All Laughed”), you couldn’t tell from the sparkling, carefree melodies and Nick Krill’s eternally shrill and upbeat singing. But while everyone enjoys a bouncy little pop song now and then, only the eternally sunny could easily stomach eleven of them straight. And it’s not just that the songs are brief and bubbly; the Spinto Band also fills every nook and cranny with good times. The keyboards are always chirping merrily; handclaps, xylophones and kazoos appear quite frequently; there’s more than one jovial chorus sing-along. Taken at face value from a distance and only a grinch could turn his/her nose to it. Heard all in one sitting, it numbs you. And not with a plastered-on Joker smile, but with the depressing realization that I’ll probably never be half as happy as the Spinto Band’s myriad instruments are. And I feel a sudden, almost addictive need to crank up some Birthday Party or Suicide or anything remotely caustic.
Do I sound pessimistic? That’s the effect this music has. I’ll even take back part of what I said. It’s not the endless glee of the Spinto Band’s sound. It’s the sameness of it all. Every song cartwheels along at the same pace, all of them are pretty much the same length, they’re all swallowed easily enough and forgotten soon after. A playful intro is followed by the verse melody and then a skipping chorus. The melody remains the same even when they take little fifteen second detours somewhere around the second verse or the bridge. Zigzag horns and/or strings thicken the stew. The endings are cluttered and chanting. All that remains at the end is fizz. Repeat ten more times.
More than half of the songs are mildly amusing or better. Highlights include the textured pounce of “Later On,” the whirling, fairground-rock melody of “The Carnival,” “They All Laughed”’s rat-a-tat flourishes, the shockingly prudent merger of glockenspiel and guitar on “The Black Flag,” and first single, “Summer Grof,” a track that is virtually impossible to remember after it ends but is just as difficult to skip when you come across it. But they all just sort of melt together over the course of the mercifully brief thirty-four minutes. And the fact that each track is pop soup—overcooked and over-seasoned to different degrees—makes long stretches surprisingly bland. The Spinto Band desperately needs to learn new tricks. Stuff a few edgier or slower (or at least different) songs into the mix and Moonwink could have been palatable.
With a flighty, rave-up performance, the Spinto Band is guaranteed to have detractors and fans in large camps. And despite a complete disregard for the less-is-more treatise, they can mash up a patchwork pop anthem with the best of 'em. But the routine is so one-note that it’s tough to make sense of it all. They need to be more grounded—too much Red Bull for these gents. It’s the New Pornographers on uppers. It’s Weezer on Ritalin. It borders on obnoxious. But I’ll take almost any of these songs on a one-at-a-time basis and have a gay old time.
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