My girlfriend often teases me for enjoying what she and Barry from High Fidelity refer to as “sad bastard music.” I make no apologies for my love of acts like Bright Eyes, Cat Power, and most notably, Belle and Sebastian. Forget tawdry, woebegone tags like emo and/or twee—music of this nature allows me to feel and encourages me to examine the darker, more introspective sides of my personality. Yet, I realize that it’s not good for me to wallow in such melancholy on a regular basis; so, for each downcast grey weeper that I absorb, I’ve learned to inject some wide-eyed, upbeat music into my ears.

This is where Wheat comes into play, and this band’s ability to craft excellent, soul-lifting pop music has been put on full display with White Ink Black Ink. Cobbling together a sound that dabbles equally in breezy afro-pop, smart Brit rock, and shimmy-friendly indie-pop, this album is chock full of shiny tunes that revel in friendly melodies and sharp song construction. Engaging theatrical elements of the Flaming Lips and the Polyphonic Spree are certainly present, but Wheat’s strength on this project is definitely the short song lengths, which serve to give each track a very potent immediacy. Once the record comes to an end, it’s difficult not to give it another instant listen or three.

Moreover, White Ink Black Ink invites you onto the stage, into the studio, and into music itself to simply enjoy what’s happening. Wheat’s music is appropriately and pleasingly arty and intelligent, but is rather far removed from any trace of pretentiousness—it’s great to be able to listen to an album without having to over-think every single chord or tempo change, instrumentation choice, or what a set of lyrics might possibly mean. Selections like “Changes Is,” “My Warning,” and “El Sincero” make for great driving music, complete with affable, easy-to-understand choruses that beg for the listener to sing along at full voice.

Admittedly, there are instances when I feel that Wheat’s smile-inducing pop tunes could come across as a bit too happy-go-lucky for the average listener. Yet, I don’t think that the somewhat grandiose anthems on the second half of the record, led by “Two Mountains” and “I Want Less,” are nearly as attractive as the cheerful pop on the first half.

Suffice to say, I absolutely find the band’s over-the-top earnestness and sincerity more than appealing, especially in a world where cynicism and irony are the primary forms of cultural currency. White Ink Black Ink should be doled out regularly as a remedy to what ails any postmodern, pensive-to-a-fault music fan.

[review by guest contributor Adam P. Newton]

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