Magnetic Morning

There's nothing the least bit wrong with the constituent parts of Magnetic Morning. Sam Fogarino hails from Interpol, where his fierce, punchy drumming tends to sell songs every bit as much as the hooks do-- and as the eldest of the bunch, he's probably also the most likely to know a lot about the 1990s shoegazer acts they occasionally borrow from. Then there's Adam Franklin, who actually is from a 90s shoegazer act: Swervedriver, whose albums added a touch of hard-rock bombast to a scene that was often a lot more comfortable, pillowy, and dreamy. The two were introduced in New York by a mutual friend, and set about making music together-- deep, dark, spacious rock music-- and...

Well, it's turned out awfully bland, is the thing. This EP seems to suffer from the problem that happens with a lot of very professional rock guys, where loads of attention get paid to subtleties and technical work-- the right guitar tone, the deep "feel" of the drum groove, the space and reverb in the production-- but a giant vacuum gets left around it: There's plenty of tastefulness, but not much in the way of hooks, movement, tension, spice, stand-out songwriting, stand-out style, stimulation, inspiration, or engagement value for the listener. (And that list could have been longer.) These songs let Fogarino drop into drumming with a lot more nuance than the boxy drive of Interpol, and Franklin surrounds that with all manner of drizzly, sweeping guitar tones. Chord sequences always turn in the smart direction; transitions always get scripted with the fluidity of people who know what they're doing. But apart from "Don't Go to the Dream State", which takes on an intriguingly spooky 1960s movie-soundtrack feel, this stuff just plods, like a high-minded band still missing a frontman.

Which is odd: Franklin is a frontman, and yet the vocals really are a problem-- a kind of muddy, meandering moan that's unlikely to excite even Swervedriver fans. That band usually brought enough edge and speed to the music that Franklin's low-energy mumble was an ideal fit; pair it with poorly focused melodies and this nondescript lumbering, though, and it has a hard time carrying the weight. This makes for some odd results-- say, the way the instrumental reconfiguration of their song "Cold War Kids" (yeah, no, really) feels more engaging than the vocal version, or the way their cover of the