The Teeth You're My Lover Now by: Joseph Coscarelli Mon:30-Jul-07 Label: Park The Van Year: 2007 WB rating 65 out of 100

On You're My Lover Now, The Teeth have found a buoyant, if not manic, center fleshed out with a flair for the theatrical and a penchant for tight, succinct pop flares. Front-tooth Peter MoDavis has a keen sense of lyrical narratives, forging vignette-after-short-story-after-character-portrait in an ADD-onslaught of this, that, and the other thing. This spastic hyperactivity, in which another lyrical tale begins as the previous vision still burns bright in the mind, gives Lover an urgency to match its eclecticism. To their credit, The Teeth also manage to skirt above the fray, with an array of stylistic forays including almost-vaudevillian piano jaunts ('Molly Make Him Pay') to misdirect the nagging familiarity elicited by more standard punk-flavored numbers ('It's Not Funny'). The result is an excitingly inventive, but occasionally uneven, experience, propelled by the most ambitious numbers, only floundering when the band falls back to formula. 

Throughout, Lover is slippery, both in the sense that it is difficult to grasp as a whole and in its wily, yet pleasing shifts. And The Teeth, like a skilled character actor, dip in and out of varied roles with measured purpose and an ear for economy (no song is over three-and-a-half minutes), always believable but subtly recognizable. Like the finest of this class of role-players, glimpses of stardom seep from the small tears in the safe skin that develop when the band ventures outside of a comfort zone and the risks are extremely rewarding. The album's entire second half, from the lo-fi 'It's Over, It's Over' to the searing 'Rabbit Run', bubbles with passion and soul. The faint humming organ and retro-stomp of 'Ball Of The Dead Rat' recalls Park The Van label-mates, Dr. Dog, as does the rousing bar-room feel of the record's latter part. MoDavis's vocals are occasionally grating at first listen but his inflection syncs seamlessly with the punch of the jittery guitars and slamming piano plinks, exemplary on the title track, where his most gruff register drives home the earnest fire with which he operates.  

The aforementioned saloon-shaker 'Molly Make Him Pay' is the album's opener and strongest of the first act, with the album's second chunk faltering at the hands of power chords and oversimplified directness. 'The Trumpets Blared' picks up the pace only in beats per minute, but never goes for the kill and a funky bass line isn't enough to save the off-kilter 'Yellow'. Late-period Kinks are a prevalent influence in 'The Coolest Kid In School' but the momentum is staved by lyrical inanity at the hands of 'Walk Like A Clown'. Shoddy sequencing could be to blame but it's these inconsistencies that stamp out flames of forward-thinking innovation and leave Lover as a passing peek at potential instead of the break-out vehicle it could be, in the foot-steps of other piano-slamming, vignette-laden debuts from similar bands like White Rabbits and Cold War Kids.