Mt. Wilson Repeater

Self-titled

Eastern Fiction

The self-titled debut by Mt. Wilson Repeater, the new project of L.A. band Radar Bros.' frontman Jim Putnam, is mellow even by the standards of psychedelia, and that's saying something.

To elaborate, if John Mayer ever wants to duel Putnam in a mellow-off, he'd better bring it.

This one is a reminder music doesn't always have to be about deep verbal messages and screaming for maximum loudness in the wilderness. The music itself is a messenger and it suggests to the listener it might be time for a tall iced tea, peaceful occupation of a good easy chair and the removal of shoes.

I'll admit the title of the album's third track "Island In The Sun" gave me pause, as I'm rather fond of Weezer's nerd-rock stylings; as it turned out, this drifting daydream of a composition shares far more common ground with Ringo Starr than Rivers Cuomo.

I did find the flute used on "Basketball Song" annoying, and the piano work came across too sharply to gel well with the mellower tone of most of the album; it is however one of the most "get-up-and-do-something" tracks (if not the only one) on the album.

"All Night Every Day" is a percussion-strings-and-piano marvel that, like several other tracks including opening number "Canmtady" and "The Conversation" (that one really grew on me) uses Putnam's polished-sandalwood voice to great effect as a stabilizing influence that anchors an assortment of instruments handily.

The slow build and roll of "In The Week of a Whale" is another standout and possibly the most electronically-influenced track on the album. For some reason the song brought up memories of boss fights on old Super Nintendo video games; on that basis I'll give it a second place to "Basketball Song" in the get-up-and-go division.

"Maid Marion" brings things back from the electronic brink with a ballad-like feel that might make Alan-a-Dale strum along.

As Neil-Young-influenced closing track "Tether in the Haze" wound down, the impression I was left with was the album is reminiscent of getting drunk on a couch with good friends on a summer evening and talking about whatever.

As is frequently the case in the sound-(ec)centric world of psychedelia, there was no objectionable language I could find on "Mt. Wilson Repeater;" more than a few of these tracks, played softly in the background, somehow could result in "nap time" mysteriously being extended a bit (ahem, hint, hint to moms/dads/kindergarten teachers/day care providers).

The whole album is suffused with warm and friendly psychedelia that feels like snuggling up in a blanket made of sunsets, strawberry lemonade and mohair, the only downside being it may result in unexpectedly deep chats or a snooze Rip Van Winkle might envy.