Week 4: Pockets

10. KARATE - Pockets
Southern, 2004

Prior to this outing, Boston-based Karate had released a handful of OK-but-none-too-inspired (or inspiring) records which ranged from pedestrian emo blather to pseudo-jazz rock meandering, and a few in between which blended the two to decidedly mixed results. The songs on Pockets contain all the familiar Karate accoutrements with none of the fringe elements - the noodly jazz guitarin' going on here (and it is, indeed, plentiful) comes across not as excessive or unnecessary but fits all glovelike with the appropriately emotional songwriting, which itself, in turn, is not maudlin but rather truly poignant and smart. It's not easy to put a finger on what changed with this album, but dang it, these are some of them good kinda songs, ones that manage a startling duality between being introverted but anthemic, emotionally affecting on some gut level but musically inventive as all get-out. What's so initially striking about Karate's records is the absence of any and all studio frills - it's all one guitar (and one guitar only - when the lead starts, the rhythm ends), bass, drums and clean-ass vocals here. One gets the impression that this band doesn't do overdubs; after all, they're all Berklee trained and total music nerds, which usually makes for terrible songwriting, but somehow in their case they actually found the line between Chicago-style 'perfection' and Cap'n Jazz-like chaos (Jeezus, even as I write that it sounds horrible, but trust me, it ain't), and they straddle it well. Pockets almost isn't fit to be writ about, 'cause it defies most musical logic, but I'll stand by this record, most definitely.