Most of the problems with The Waves’ debut record emanate from one source: the faux-Brit affectation. Sure, it’s easy enough to look past —especially when the band locks into a tight groove, as on the garage-rock stomper “Can’t Help Myself” — but what it implies is more troublesome. This is perfectly competent, psych-tinged pop/rock, but it’s disappointingly by-the-book, from the rote sitar drones to the Revolver-era backwards guitar solo. Indeed, the lads from Liverpool loom large over this collection of tunes, and while it’s probably unfair to compare young upstarts to our holy saviors of psychedelic pop, there’s also a good reason why few fly so close to the sun: It’s been done, and by the best, no less. The simple melodic pleasures of this record are undeniable, but they’re too easy; give us something fresh to chew on.
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