Sometimes it's about trying something new, and
sometimes it's about finding an old groove. When Matthew Sweet cut the 1991
album Girlfriend,
he bundled his obsessions into tight, starry-eyed, dark-hearted songs that
sounded forward-looking in spite of their debt to '60s pop. Much of the album's
distinctive sound came from punk-era guitarists—Robert Quine and
Television's Richard Lloyd—who dropped carefully implemented bits of
chaos into songs brought to life by an assured band that included session ace
Greg Leisz and drummer Ric Menck. Quine and Lloyd stuck around for two more
almost-as-good albums, and Sweet never soared as high with subsequent lineups.
Sunshine Lies reunites that team in part for the second
time this decade. (Lloyd, Leisz, and Menck previously rejoined Sweet for the
little-heard 2003 album Kimi Ga Suki—originally a Japan-only release—and
Quine's 2004 death then made a full reunion impossible.) Sunshine Lies doesn't quite capture the
old flash, though it does bottle some of the lightning. Sweet's vocals sound
strained at times, and some of his lyrics could use another pass. (For the
worst instance of both, look to "Room To Rock," which finds Sweet doing his
best Tom Petty impression.) But the best tracks are sure to please old fans. "Byrdgirl"
has the guitar work and harmonies to back up its name, and the title track is
an ambitious, Brian Wilson-inspired stunner. Consistent, it isn't, but Sunshine
Lies has
moments that make 2008 sound like 1995 trying to revive 1965 all over again.