The appropriately named Australian Adam Power makes well-crafted, professionally polished power pop, whose songwriting formulas (adroitly executed here) ultimately derive from the Beatles and the Bee Gees circa 1968. He doesn't sound much like a Gibb; when he cuts loose he sounds uncannily like Lou Gramm of Foreigner. But rather than roar bombastically, Power is generally more inclined to warble genially in the manner of Billy J. Kramer (though he sounds considerably more congested). Inviting comparisons to '60s British invasion bands is generally dicey, because almost no one can compare favorably to what is perhaps the strongest and most definitive period in rock history. Adam Power is no exception; his derivativeness is most intrusive when he is at his most Beatlesque, as on More Juice's title track, with its tasteful strings and its minor sevenths, or on the vaguely whimsical "Winston Jones", which partakes of the spirit of the Bee Gees' "Harry Braff" or "Craise Finton Kirk Royal Academy of Arts". That's not to say these songs are bad -- in fact, they are two of the strongest. It's just that they'll inevitably remind you how superior their inspirations are and force you to wonder why you're not listening to Revolver or Horizontal instead.

Also, Power's atavistic approach is inherently nostalgic, and thus sentimental, even though his lyrics don't want to suggest maudlin sentimentality. They are instead filled with curious turns of phrase that must make more sense Down Under: "It's jabber time and plastic things I leave behind," or "A midriff top and a short skirt will have to shit him," or "I'm knackered all day / This spill will pay off soon." A few songs, unfortunately, deal with the tribulations of dealing with the music industry, a topic no one (outside of other musicians, who certainly sympathize) wants to hear about, and which forces us to realize that the songs are about him instead of us, thereby undermining their effectiveness.

Still, the craftsmanship and the hooks here are usually winning enough to distract listeners from what Power is singing about -- enough to make them forget that he's working hard at excelling in a moribund genre and that his successes will always also be failures to live up to the legends he admires.