fun.
Aim and Ignite
[Nettwerk]
Get It at Amazon

Fans of The Format have an easy replacement in singer Nate Ruess' new band, fun. Aside from a sudden apparent distaste for capitalization, little distinguishes one band from the other. Though Ruess' crisp vocals aren't hard to identify, fun. is a conspicuously direct, exaggerated result of The Format's last album, Dog Problems. The commercially friendly pop/rock sound of Ruess' prior work remains practically untouched, despite parting ways with The Format's founder, Sam Means. Ruess' trademark coming-of-age, cliché-spotted lyrics about failing with girls and social shortcomings are still a guiding focus. He's still singing about his naïve, wide-eyed teenage years from the perspective of a twenty-something who's realized all the fun shit isn't so fun anymore (pun somewhat intended).

But Aim and Ignite boasts one notable, though unfortunate, distinction: it sounds unbearably like a rock/pop opera. The multi-layered production on nearly every song quickly turns Broadway, with giant melody shifts and sporadic use of urgent vocals that sound more like speech. The album opens with the strings-accented "Be Calm," a paranoia-driven track that perpetuates the stage musical feel. Listeners can easily imagine Ruess doing a theatrical run-walk while singing, or maybe even one of those numbers on stairs where the actor annoyingly steps up-and-down repeatedly, ultimately going nowhere. The band takes an unexpected cue from Vampire Weekend with "Walking the Dog" and "At Least I'm Not as Sad (as I Used to Be)," the latter featuring steel drums and child-like female vocals countering Ruess', both glossed with an impenetrable layer of cheese. Reiterating the theatrical motif near the end of the album is the choir-adorned "Barlights," where Ruess rejoices, "I feel alive!" and inadvertently (we hope) manifests an unsolicited Sister Act tribute.

Generally, Ruess still presents himself as a dramatic 17-year-old – sometimes mesmerized by life, other times feeling isolated by it. But the nostalgia felt for the blind confidence of that age is almost too personal to replicate, and Aim and Ignite is undoubtedly Ruess' most failed attempt.