Imagine you’re listening to the radio as you drive through the Bluff City, when a song jumps out of your speakers, all driving guitar riffs and pounding drums, a perfect power pop epiphany, and you think, “Where did this come from? Tom Petty is no longer with us. Matthew Sweet, maybe?” But then a voice, not as sardonic or cutting as Petty’s, nor as sweet as Sweet’s, sings, “Well lately, I’ve been tryin’ to change, but I never seem to get that far/And maybe you can burn it down like another little shooting star.” This is another band altogether: Memphis’ own 40 Watt Moon.
If it seems like hyperbole to compare the group to such greats, just have a listen to the title song from 40 Watt Moon’s latest, I Hope the World Lasts for You. They’ve perfected a blend of that now-endangered genre one might call Classic FM Pop — not quite classic rock, and certainly not hair metal, but a more upbeat, propulsive flavor of power pop that thrives on driving riffs, harmonies, and wry-yet-sentimental lyrics evoking relationships past and present.
The band wears its influences on its collective sleeve, with classic Memphis self-deprecation. “Kind of like Tom Petty, but not as good,” they quip on their Bandcamp page, but that’s unfair to what they’ve accomplished here. A lot of the emotional authenticity comes from singer/guitarist Kevin Pusey’s delivery — a more hapless everyman than Petty, to be sure, but no less trenchant or pithy in his observations of everyday life and the ways people escape it.
Super low, that’s where you’ll go
Hiding secrets everyone knows
Find a pen at the back of the bar
But, these love letters won’t get you too far
Out of time, on this rocket ship
Lately I’m so tired of all this
Nothing’s real or meant to last
And it’s catchin’ up with you so fast
— “One and Lonely”
He’s backed by a band that blends driving rock and sparkling textures with a disciplined feel for arrangements. These players — drummer Vince Hood, bassist Michael Duncan, and guitarist Chip Googe (senior account executive at the Memphis Flyer) — have an almost architectural approach to arrangements, always playing at the service of the song. That’s equally true for the feelgood opener, “Everytime I Fall” (reminiscent of the Face’s classic, “Ooh La La”), the pummeling “Over You,” the lilting “Madeline,” and everything in between.
It doesn’t hurt that the pounding rhythms and shimmering guitars are given a bit of extra panache via Toby Vest’s production at High/Low Studio. Nor does guest keyboardist Rick Steff, typically heard with Lucero, hurt the overall effect, bringing pitch-perfect piano flourishes or organ pads as needed.
DJs take note: the opening scenario is not just a daydream. You need to play this album on the radio. It was meant to be blasted over the airwaves, carrying news of love and heartbreak, with ringing guitars, across the Mid-South and beyond.