If Dave Matthews ran a school of music, its popularity would put Juilliard out of business.
Legions of acts, from sensitive crooner John Mayer to outdoor-festival staple act O.A.R., have achieved immense success evoking Matthews' style of bluesy, white-boy rock in all its various forms. Among the hopefuls trying to use this formula to achieve the same success is Jon McLaughlin, whose debut album Indiana is a decent but predictable sampling of tunes that's heavy on laid-back rhythms and light on originality.
McLaughlin — like his musical influences — has already established himself as a grassroots success with two years of playing college campuses and summer music fests. He has also earned respect on the digital music scene by streaming his EPs on MySpace.com.
The organic Indiana, named in homage to McLaughlin's home state, is a perfect match for the artist's breezy, casual style onstage. But beyond the pleasing hints of John Mayer and Jack Johnson, McLaughlin's music lacks the character to stand out on its own. Underneath the comparisons, Indiana is undecided in its direction and unaffecting in its delivery.
The album, a mix of relaxing piano ballads and guitar-driven jams, is carried by McLaughlin's smooth, polished tenor. His charming voice is pitch-perfect throughout the disc, even if he can't decide exactly what type of singer he wants to be. On "Just Give It Time," a masterful example of well-produced pop and a likely single, he sails confidently over power chords and swelling strings. "Until You Got Love" finds the singer and pianist crooning moodily over a jazz beat. Filling the album's sappy love-ballad slot, "Amelia's Missing" is yet another change-up, with McLaughlin channeling Gavin DeGraw on lyrics about unrequited love.
While remembering to emulate all of his influences, however, McLaughlin forgets to assert a style of his own. Too many of Indiana's tunes sound like watered-down versions of the soft-rock tracks that hover near the bottom of VH1's Top 20 Video Countdown. Hardly any of McLaughlin's emotions carry through his clichéd lyrics, and the album's overproduced sound fails to resonate beyond smooth-sounding mediocrity.
As a result, Indiana is uninteresting save for slight comparisons to the far better work of its predecessors.
Worse yet, McLaughlin suffers from being almost everything he tries to be. Some tracks are almost soulful, but come just shy of delivering the heaviness of a true soul track. Others are almost romantic, but fail to ignite any flames. Even his acoustic guitar sounds too polished to be truly acoustic.
With floppy, disheveled hair and a perfectly groomed five o' clock shadow, McLaughlin certainly fits the image requirements to attend Dave Matthews' hypothetical school of music. But he'll have to hone his craft considerably to ever graduate to levels of Matthews' success. For now, the only achievement McLaughlin can rightly claim is his ascent into the new crop of harmless, superficially emotional singer-songwriters who will — at most — get a few songs on soundtracks to bad romantic comedies starring Mandy Moore.
Concertgoers can catch McLaughlin — before he resigns himself to such a fate — tonight at the Orpheum Stage Door, where he'll open for Matt Wertz. While McLaughlin's new album lacks a certain spark, he's easy on the eyes, and his music isn't a bad background for a night on the town.
