You know those generic-sounding pop/rock tracks that car companies use as background music in commercials? I had always assumed they were produced by advertising executives, pressed for time and money and lacking any sort of musical talent or experience.
Ten minutes of listening to Rhett Miller's "The Believer" convinced me that, tragically, there are actual artists that churn out this kind of forgettable boilerplate "music." Maybe in a worst case scenario, playing this album could disperse and subdue an unruly crowd; other than that, there is simply no reason to play it, ever.
Miller is best known as the lead singer of the Dallas-based alt-country band the Old 97's. After forming in 1993, the group released "Hitchhike to Rhome" in 1994. While it never gained wide popularity, the group is respected by critics and has toured numerous times.
"The Believer" starts with promise, but this promise turns to disappointment quickly. On the first track, "My Valentine," the tender notes of what sounds like a harpsichord pull in the listener. Could this be a unique rock song, set to the tune of an 18th-century classical melody?
The abrupt answer comes 20 seconds into the song, when the enchanting harmony halts and the actual band members start playing their respective instruments. Guitarist Lyle Workman strums a predictable selection of three chords ad nauseam; drummer Matt Chamberlain provides a beat standard enough for any decent drum machine to handle. Miller's voice has a distinct edge to it, but with every song on the album, he never displays any kind of vocal range. As a result, each song tends to blend into the next.
One notable feature of "The Believer" is Miller's proximity to country music, probably owing to his Texas roots.
Several songs - most notably Miller's duet with Rachel Yamagata, "Fireflies" - have strong country undertones. Miller sounds more comfortable here than in his pure pop songs; that being said, it's Yamagata who makes this song worth listening to.
The lyrics are no better than the musical arrangement of the album. Rhett belts out this little gem on "Singular Girl": "Talking to you, girl / Is like long division, yeah." While it's nice for a song to have lyrics that its listeners can relate to, a line like this just reinforces the fact that Miller's songs have no underlying theme or deeply-felt meaning; they are just a collection of words and chords.
In the final track, "Question," the closest thing the album has to a tender love ballad, Miller instructs: "Some day somebody's gonna ask you / A question that you should say yes to / Once in your life / Maybe tonight I've got a question for you."
The song is definitely cheesy, but one gets the feeling that a more talented singer-songwriter could whip it up into a soft little tune that teen girls could fawn over. Rhett's slightly nasal, made-for-pop voice, however, isn't able to make the transition to down tempo; even when he's close to whispering, it sounds like he's shouting.
The real problem with "The Believer" is not what it does wrong, but what it fails to do right. Pop albums have traditionally embraced the concept of a person hearing a catchy hook on the radio, getting it stuck in his head and humming it to himself until he breaks down and has no choice but to buy the album. This is not a phenomenon that will occur at any point with "The Believer."
In this genre, the lack of a catchy hook on any of an album's songs is enough to relegate it to bargain-bin status. It also makes the album impossible to listen to more than a few times: Instead of enjoying favorite songs, listeners will find themselves picking up on the same musical flaws and peculiarities again and again. They'd be wise to save themselves the trouble by ignoring "The Believer" completely.
