The best music, it might be said, resides at the meeting point of technical skill and dogged creativity. When one is absent or, at least, prominently superseded by the other, the quality will suffer. This by no means seems to be an elitist standard but one that may be applied universally, from global behemoths like U2 and Radiohead down to obscure, burgeoning local acts.
The Mighty Short Bus belongs to the latter class, hailing from right here in Madison. A relatively inexperienced recording group, they have only released two full-length LPs: 2004's When the Time Comes and this year's sophomore effort Rogue Nation. Their web bio mentions that they have been likened to "southern rock bands such as The Black Crowes and Lynyrd Skynyrd. … but that is only half their sound … maybe less." Admittedly, The Mighty Short Bus possesses a steady grasp of musical mechanics, but they are also stubbornly derivative and a tad bland.
On Rogue Nation, not only do they draw from the work of The Black Crowes, but lead singer Frank Busch seems to perform a close vocal mimic of Chris Robinson as if he were duty bound to do so. It's unrelenting and distracting, for sure. The paltry, secondhand rhythms that it's set to, though, further compound the error of this misguided collection of quasi-rock tracks. Rogue Nation overheats on streamlined rock/alt-country flows, sleek organ overlays and drawn-out solos (which calls to mind Russell Hammond's crackling riffs from "Almost Famous" faux-band Stillwater).
Minutes into the album, one can detect whiffs of its paint-by-numbers approach. The opener, "Fire," begins in a throttle of bombastic, crashing guitars and immediately sets to shamelessly aping The Black Crowes and various southern, boogie-rock groups. Its well-worn honky-tonk flow makes for the most flaccid brand of rock 'n' roll, the kind that recoils from the thought of cursing or smoking a joint.
A frustrating trend begins with "Fire" and surfaces throughout much of "Rogue Nation:" employing overwrought solos in an attempt to resurrect songs from their stock strains of classic rock. On "Higher," the guitar work edges toward a harder chug but ends up with only a half-snarl. The solo flails about with wild-eyed flourishes, while the song as a whole still maintains its overly polished tenor.
Apart from the tangential guitar solos, essentially the whole of the music craft here adheres to a banefully refined flow. There are a few quirky chord changes and abrupt tempo shifts that can serve to vitalize and elevate otherwise tepid musical artistry. "I Don't Mind" offers one of the sparing instances of such needed innovation. It opens with a miscalculated electro-funk bass line that smacks of something the Eagles (or perhaps just Don Henley or Glenn Frey) would have attempted at their worst. A standardized swirl of impassioned guitars follows, but then suddenly something delightfully off-beat occurs: A quiet, slow-down segue brings the pace to a near halt and then is capped by a soulful stretch of alt-rock that sounds like Audioslave at their finest (which is also something immensely irregular).
The most unexpectedly great moment comes with the mid-way instrumental track "Shotmusic." It's barely two minutes long and, for all purposes, is a fly-over number, but you can't help but be swept up in its spry, melancholy-tinged pianos and the odd horn-like beat that anchors the song's limited duration. It is wonderfully out of place and came off as a genuine spell of innovation — another rarity.
This sort of song, however, is far from being a representative face of Rogue Nation. The Mighty Short Bus seems much too enamored with the uninspired rolls of "Knockin'" and "Evil," both of which sound inflexibly determined to exude a half-assed and sonically dull spirit of rock 'n roll.
The clichéd lyricism of The Mighty Short Bus almost does not need to be mentioned, but it does further flesh out the amateur core of Rogue Nation. The chorus of "Alright" proceeds with "I've been searching for something, for a long, long time/ Now I realize it's nothing/ I gotta leave it behind." The lyrics are exceedingly vague and leave you with an inconclusive notion as to who is doing what to whom and why. For instance, the closer "Wrong to Leave" opens with the line "Can you feel me coming home/ Has she left me all alone." Busch may sing his lines with a well-traveled, half-Southern drawl, but that does not lend any vitality to such words.
When appraising a local band like The Mighty Short Bus, it may seem prudent to grant them a certain measure of uncritical leeway because of their lower professional status. But doing so would be a disservice. If local acts want to be taken seriously, they must be judged seriously. Accordingly, Rogue Nation is a hyper-conventional rock album from a band in need of quirks and a more singular identity. If you're in a frenzy to listen to finely crafted boogie rock, return to the classics or peruse Kings of Leon's astute discography, The Mighty Short Bus has a ways to go.
Grade: 3 out of 5
