| Jack Penate - Matinee |
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| Written by Glen Sarvady | |
 Jack PenateMatinee [XL Recordings] Get It at Amazon  The idea of “80s retro” as a musical descriptor has lost virtually all meaning, just as the term Beatle-esque offers little illumination. Let’s see…we’ve worked through the punk-funk, the kitschy synth-pop, and the grand, brooding gestures of the likes of Joy Division and Echo and the Bunnymen, none of which shared much more than a shelf date. So calling Londoner Jack Penate another ’80s throwback is rather pointless – what’s nice is that he’s tapped a few sources overdue for a revival. The first couple tracks of Matinee leave me wondering if Ted Leo had been the victim of identity theft on his last UK jaunt. Opener “Spit at Stars” in particular mimics Leo’s smoother, guileless side, the one that looks back to Joe Jackson rather than the DC straight-edge scene. The two also share a weakness for pop-reggae inflections, although Penate throws in a tad of skiffle and enough rockabilly (check out the pompadour!) to recall best-forgotten novelties like Shakin’ Stevens. Meanwhile, his thick everyman accent seems calculated to punch the same stateside anglophile buttons as Lily Allen. Dig deeper, however, and a more apt reference emerges: mid-80s short-term sensations The Housemartins. Like those countrymen Penate excels at a classical form of efficient-yet-savvy pop songwriting, with enough verve to push a chorus to new heights its third time around. For a more contemporary reference, think of Penate as a more polished, caffeinated version of the Lucksmiths. Where Penate diverges from his forebears is on the lyrical side. Whereas The Housemartins and Joe Jackson used sprightly melodies to cloak darker, subversive messages, Penate trades mostly in sweetness and light. “Got My Favorite” addresses the shallowness of artifice in part by fondly recalling shopping with his dad, while “Torn on the Platform” equates his love for his town with a romance with a girl. Penate strikes a nice guy pose and professes to be shooting for something positive, but absent meaty subjects he can come across as lightweight. The album’s title could refer to its contents’ “safe for all ages” status as easily as Penate’s matinee idol candidacy. The standouts emerge, not coincidentally, when he furrows his brow. The elegant, piano-based “Learning Lines” shows some welcome internal wrangling, the edgier “Run for Your Life” tackles casual street violence, and the sparse, introspective “When We Die” provides a striking coda. The ’80s offered up its share of insubstantial but pleasing confections. Matinee doesn’t quite fall into the guilty pleasure category, but a bit more gravitas might make it easier for Jack Penate to win your unconditional love. |
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