Oakland’s Lunchbox is the long-extant partnership of guitarist Tim Brown and bassist Donna McKean; their latest album is After School Special. Fitting for the title, its 11 songs cohere into a teen music fiesta, blending bubblegum, sunshine-pop, power pop, and classic C86-style indie-pop. That’s a lot of pop, but the duo (plus guests) also has a nice grip on ’77-punkish velocity and gnarl (with horns). Furthermore, that cover photo insinuates a hint of unease keeping things from getting too sugary sweet; I do hope that kitten is okay. The record is out October 30 on blue and white marbled vinyl and CD through Slumberland Records.
To elaborate upon Lunchbox’s span of existence, they’ve been at it for roughly a quarter century (with some breaks here and there), releasing a 7-inch and a cassette in 1995 (this is their sixth full-length overall), so while the stylistic tendencies listed above date from the ’60s to the ’80s, they distill them into a sound that’s remains representative of the ’90s indie scene.
That they can resonate like an outfit from the Elephant 6 stable is well-established, but I must say that, upon a blind introductory listen to After School Special, the sound of Ladybug Transistor-esque horns really snuck up on me. Upon checking out the credits thereafter, it was revealed that Gary Olson, he of Ladybug Transistor, plays trumpet, alongside Jeremy Goody.
Don’t go thinking After School Special is as opulent as the Transistor’s The Albemarle Sound, though. Maintained from earlier Lunchbox efforts is energy and forward motion that’s similar to the buoyant psych-pop pf Rob Schneider’s ’90s bands. Except that opener “Dream Parade” goes heavier on the jangle, with McKean’s vocals reminding me of something that might’ve landed a spot in K Records’ International Pop Underground 7-inch series.
At just under 90 seconds, it’s a tidy little number, with brevity a recurring part of their method; only a single track exceeds three minutes (many are under two), and the whole record wraps up in 24 and change. This disdain for potentially overstaying their welcome, certainly punk derived (but also classically pop), sits in nice contrast to the songwriting acumen that’s on display in “Over Way Too Soon,” with the horns in this instance reminding me more of a post-Postcard Records maneuver than a neo-psych-pop gesture.
However, “Gary of the Academy,” which features an abundance of trumpet, lands betwixt Fun Trick Noisemaker and a sunshine pop single cut for While Whale circa ’67 (it’s as much the backing vocals as the horns). Next, “Utopia” is hyperactive bubblegum that’ll likely please both power pop fans and Ramones lovers (and Schneider partisans), and then “Hide and Seek” mingles more horns with the deliciously tinny din of Brown’s guitar.
The next cut rhymes “whoa whoa” with “I Really Wanna Know,” as the cut’s neo-’60s motions are a tad reminiscent of Orange Juice, except with scrappier punk a la Mod guitars. Very welcome. And McKean’s singing, here and elsewhere (this album and before) reminds me of Amelia Fletcher, which is a total positive, as is the supple muscularity of her bass playing, which, bubblegum aside, helps to ward off any overly sweet sensations.
Instead, “Thee Cheers for Autumntime” combines jangle punch, horns, vocal harmony, and a dash of melancholy that really underscores Lunchbox as Anglophiles. From there, “Melt Into Air” is scaled back and thicker, for most of its span just guitar, bass, drums (mostly played on the album by John Diaz) and vocals, though trumpet and keyboard (courtesy of either Patrick Main of Evelyn Davis, who also sings some backup with Christina Rile) do sneak in late, reminding me a little of Spaceheads (not so unusual, as earlier in their trajectory, Lunchbox folded a little electronica into their recipe).
At nearly four minutes, “It’s Over Now” is epic in the record’s scheme, though it’s loaded with jaunty perkiness that highlights TV show theme music as inspiration (think “you’re going to make it after all”). And the album’s closer is also the title track, which delivers the most forthrightly psych tinged moment on the disc. Altogether, After School Special finds Lunchbox as inspired now as they were over two decades back, an observation that doubles as high praise.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
