Album Review: Blake Jones & the Trike Shop – And Still…

Oftentimes, the listener’s path into an artist’s work goes like this: they hear about new music, listen to those recordings, develop greater interest, and then maybe get the opportunity to see the artist live onstage. But it doesn’t always work that way.

A bit over a year ago I was in Liverpool, as a member of Steve Stoeckel’s band to play for the International Pop Overthrow Festival. While those gigs were the highlight of the trip (and among the highlights of my life so far, be it known), taking in live sets from some very, very good acts was close behind. One of those featured Blake Jones & the Trike Shop. I was impressed not only by the group’s stage demeanor and by Jones’ ability to coax actual melodies out of a Theremin – no easy task, that – but by the music. The group’s original songs blended pure pop values with a decidedly bent and whimsical mien, a mad-scientist approach to songcraft.

I was sold then and there. And so when And Still…, the latest release from the group arrived on my desk, I was quite keen to listen: would they be successful in capturing the mix of mischief and melody in studio recordings?

The answer came quickly. While “Record Cover Girl” is a catchy enough opener, just a few seconds into “Fascist Bumblebee Winter Formal” it becomes clear that this album delivers on the art-pop promise of live shows. Shades of Martin Denny crossed with John Barry are folded into a strangely alluring tune. Best not to try to make sense of the lyrics; the tune washes over the listener in a delightfully off-kilter way.

And Still… is filled with songlets, pieces that clock in at under two minutes; there are five such tracks on the album. But each one is fully developed, and could – had Jones wished – have been extended to standard pop song length. It’s a testament to his compositional and arrangement gifts that he has enough top quality material to fill an album this way. Music-nerdy topics like used record stores and hype stickers make Jones’ slightly skewed point of view plain, but it’s a POV that indie-oriented listeners are likely to share and/or appreciate.

“The Queen is Dead” is very 1967ish, in the best way; it hints at both Sgt. Pepper and Pet Sounds. Of course Jones isn’t the first to draw from those sources, but he does it skillfully here. And yes, the Theremin makes a front-and-center appearance on “You Put Theremin on My Hype Sticker,” with a feel closer to Spaghetti Western soundtracks than to, say, a ‘50s sci-fi flick. Listeners who like their pop quirky and adventurous won’t want to miss And Still…