The Strange Boys
"Be Brave"
2.5 stars
The Strange Boys' name promises weirdness, but "Be Brave" is pretty damn standard. Lead vocalist Ryan Sambol sounds like a whinier Bob Dylan; combined, the crew sounds like a less dramatic version of The White Stripes.
When you come to New York and say you're strange, you've got a lot to live up to, unless you're shooting for irony. Nonetheless, the boys can jam — and like the boy next door, their stuff grows on you. The music unwinds and the rhythm lulls you into a dreamy daze. It's the inclusion of a smoothly squeaking harmonica that carries us through, making swing-dancing also a possibility.
In "A Walk on the Beach," Sambol picks up the pace when he starts belching about going back to Africa. You can't help but wish you were "on the top of a mountain" beside him. Preferably, he'd be unshaven, wearing a checkered shirt and chewing on a piece of grass.
"Be Brave" is most fun when the backup vocals add the echo of a crowd to the chorus, as if we were swaying along with them at a show. As the music rolls on, the album's story unfolds. It seems like these boys are a bit homesick for pickup trucks and ranches. Ryan sings "the night life is not a good life, but it's mine." And the whole time, they're throwing out apologies to girls they left at home?
"Dare I Say" finds the group delving into spunky nostalgia. The bass imitates horse trots to create a good ol' farm atmosphere, while hints of funkiness pop up in "Laugh at Sex, Not Her." Of course, that song also features a questionable metaphor: "Sex is like laughter, you do it differently with different people ... it feels good, but it's not always possible." It sounds like a drunk dial or improvisation in the shower.
The final tracks are gloomy and regretful, both a last cry of "I won't grow up!" and a reluctant farewell to adolescence. They're trying to "be brave," but they are just boys in their early twenties, more or less strange, who miss their high school girlfriends. Manhood awaits.