The Automatik

Elektra, 2003

Rhett Miller’s transformation from bespectacled indie geek to shag-haired hottie during his tenure in Texas’ Old 97s has been a source of much amusement to me, like some high school outsider blooming after graduation and bringing his dazzling smile of success to the reunion, thereby putting all the jocks and cheerleaders to shame. I wouldn’t even find it necessary to mention was I not somewhat disappointed in this, his first solo effort.

It’s not that it’s a bad album; in fact, I like most of it. I’m dazzled by the guest musicians, including Jon Brion, John Doe, and Robyn Hitchcock. The rumors of Miller’s collaborations with Brion were the ones that sent me into paroxysms of power pop anticipation. And The Instigator is nothing if not power pop. The problem is I’ve heard Miller’s contributions to the Old 97s oeuvre and I know he can do better.

Why do I have a sinking feeling that this album, whose artwork relies heavily on Miller’s pretty face, is proof that style has won over substance? Granted, “Your Nervous Heart” and “I Want To Live” wear their hearts on their single-material sleeves. Even though songs like “The El” and “This is What I Do” have great hooks and clever lyrics, I yearn for something outright poignant. It’s totally possible to convey emotion through pristine guitar riffs and harmonies. Without the poignancy, however, it’s all pop and no power.