Cassettes Won't Listen

Here's a familiar story: a New York-based multi-instrumentalist and producer with loads of indie cred steps out of the booth to record solo material to critical acclaim. If the story of Jason Drake, who records under the moniker Cassettes Won't Listen, sounds similar to that of LCD Soundsystem's James Murphy, that's because it is. But that's where the similarities end.

If Murphy is an indie-DJ jokester, Drake plays his doe-eyed straight man. Considering his fantastically bubbly cover of Liz Phair's "Fuck and Run" from last year, Small-Time Machines is an unexpected blast of emo-like sincerity. The album's best song, "Freeze and Explode," begins with the thought, "there's nothing we can say or do / the damage is in front of you / I'm sorry, but sometimes things fall apart."

For much of Small-Time Machine, Drake sounds like Ben Gibbard's dueling, indie-versus-electronic personalities—a perfect midpoint between Death Cab For Cutie's sensitive indie-pop and The Postal Service's tepid electronics. "The Broadcast" borrows heavily from the latter's formula of sweeping harmonies atop lo-fi blips. In the midst of this danceable angst, the album's only legitimately funky moment is "Two Kids," a true, New York story about a night on the town, set to the only energetic beat of the set. Small-Time Machines is a surprisingly structured disc, with pop sensibilities well intact—there will be no doubts about Drake's songwriting after this one. Still, a little dash of chaos would go a long way.

—Nathan Atnikov
03.04.08