Antenna To The Afterworld (Sonny & The Sunsets)

Chronique

After taking a detour into country rock on their previous album, Longtime Companion, Sonny & the Sunsets are back to making music that sounds like it was made in the early '60s, beamed out into space, and returned to earth 40 years later, sounding just a little weird and warped. The group's fourth album, Antenna to the Afterworld, is haunted by death but not morbid, with the songs' cheerful melodies and Sonny Smith's inherent weirdness keep things from getting too dark. Dealing with both the horrible murder of their friend Esme Barrera and Smith's psychic contact with another dead friend, the album dips into some deep emotions at times, as on the melancholy "Dark Corners" or the lovely, lo-fi doo wop ballad "Path of Orbit." Smith balances these moments with goofy songs about messed up love affairs with aliens on both "Earth Girl" and "Green Blood," or getting garage-rock-gritty on "Primitive" while making sure to give even the most gloomy songs a little bit of uptempo punch to balance the downtempo feelings ("Void," "Mutilator"). As on any Sunsets' album the band is light and nimble, easily able to follow Smith's many stylistic twists and turns; Tahila Harbour's vocal contributions are a treat, and Kelley Stoltz gets a great sound down on tape. This time out, Smith adds some cheesy synths to fill out their sound, which works really well and adds some more off-kilter charm to the proceedings. The album may be inspired by death and sadness, but Smith and his crew manage to sneak some fun and hope in there, too. Antenna to the Afterworld turns out to be the best kind of pop album: it sounds great and it's full of catchy songs, but it has just enough deeper meaning and emotional depth to keep it from blowing away in a light breeze. It's always fun to see where Smith's muse will take him next, but this kind of simple and true album is where he is at his best.

© Tim Sendra /TiVo