[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“The Record Store” – The Brunettes
(Words/music: Jonathan Bree, available on Mars Loves Venus, Lil’ Chief 2004)

I’ve always been philosophically for going to a concert in time to see the opening band.  When I was younger, I knew if I waited through the entire bill I could end up closer to the front of the stage.  Even now that getting close is a lower priority, I like to check out the opening act when possible.  Whether it’s a band the headliners wanted to take on tour (which after time I realized isn’t always the case) or simply just a band that I’ve heard things about, I’ve seen a lot of bands that I ended up loving after seeing them open someone else’s show.  The Brunettes are one of these bands; had I heard their cleanly produced twee pop on record first, I might have written them off.  However, they played their songs with unabashed joy even to a near-empty room at a Rilo Kiley / Nada Surf show in 2005.  They swapped instruments, picked up things that belonged more in a high school band rehearsal (clarinet, mallet percussion) , and charmed nearly every person in the room.  Even without their oddly endearing choreography, donning of Full House-era Olsen twin masks, and chatting with audience members in between sets, they had won us over with their bright and shining pop.  Their unassuming and sweet charm meant that I left with two albums rather than one.  In less than an hour, they turned me from a skeptic to a supporter.

This brief opening set still remains as this band’s defining moment, enough so that I keep looking for similar revelations in their music.  “The Record Store,” for example, starts off like a sweet bit of throwback soul-pop, and Jonathan Bree’s first line suggests that it might be a light hearted ode to cute girls with good taste in music.  A few casual listens did little to change my mind either, as I keyed in on the horn arrangement or the upbeat “la la la” verse.  Only after listening to the words closer I realized the narrator’s lament – all of the cute girls that he flirts with only make him pine for the one who got away.  His woes compound when he realizes that she’s moved on, making all of the couples in the store a sickening reminder of his former flame in the arms of someone else.  However, he hides his jealousy as not to scare her (or the other ladies) away.  Instead, I imagine him settling back behind the counter, unable to enjoy the patrons or the records without having pangs of regret.  From the song’s sound, it appears that he’s keeping up appearances pretty well, but underneath the soul music lies a soul suffering from heartbreak.

More on The Brunettes: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm