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BUY THE CD
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There are times when I’ll pop a CD into my car stereo and it’ll instantly become my new favorite CD. Right from the start, there’s just something about it; it’s striking or powerful or just plain fun. And that’s what I was hoping for when I opened up Sunshine Lies, the latest album from Matthew Sweet. But, unfortunately, it wasn’t what I got.
It took me a while to get into Sunshine Lies—mostly because I just can’t stand listening to the first track, and I had a hard time getting past it. “Time Machine” sounds like an experiment gone horribly wrong, musically meandering all over the place, with out-of-synch harmonies and clashing sounds. And while some artists can make random musical experiments like this one work, it just doesn’t work here.
Even after that first track, it takes a while for Sunshine Lies to hit its stride. And that’s definitely not a good thing—because, in the same way that it’s hard to keep reading a book if you can’t get into the first chapter, it’s hard to keep listening to an album if it doesn’t grab you from the first song.
Fortunately, though, if you stick with it, Sunshine Lies does get better. The third track, “Byrdgirl,” is reminiscent of the old Sweet—only a stripped down a bit. It’s pretty and mellow and melodic, and it’s dripping with gorgeous harmonies.
The rest of the album has its good moments and its bad. At times, there are melodies and harmonies that seem a bit off. And sometimes the music doesn’t seem to match the thoughtful lyrics. But it still manages to redeem itself from those opening missteps.
The best moments on the album are the cool, sedate tracks—tracks like “Byrdgirl,” along with others, like “Feel Fear” and “Daisychain”—that bring Sweet’s poetic lyrics and mellow harmonies to the forefront. They’re the perfect tracks for a relaxing Sunday afternoon drive through the country.
Still, I can’t help but wish that the tracks on Sunshine Lies had been planned a bit better—with a stronger, more representative track in the #1 spot. Because while the album has its share of great songs, the most memorable songs are the early ones—the ones that just don’t work—leaving the rest of the album with a pretty formidable mountain to climb before it can come out on top. By the time the album’s over, it does manage to do so—but just barely.
In the end, Sunshine Lies is best listened to on your MP3 player. That way, you can rip everything but those first couple of tracks—and, before long, you’ll forget that they ever existed. What’s left may not be entirely memorable, but it’s a Sweet-ly melodic album that’s just the thing to help you unwind after a long day.
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