You can't lump Chris Knox in with the rest of the New Zealand contingent. Slipping neatly between the Chills' economical hooks and the Dead C's clamorous assault, the former Tall Dwarf stakes out acreage among the world's best Wry Popsters.
Like Squeeze, Richard Thompson or Robyn Hitchcock (whom he apes most ably on "The Man in the Crowd"), Knox's material doesn't always hit you on the first go-round. His sound sketches are like line drawings, with fuzzy guitar and assertive drumming used sparingly, more to define sonic space than to fill it in. Knox works with only the essential details, trusting your ears and imagination to flesh out the sound. Beat seems to be a bit of a concept album, addressing affairs of the heart on the lyrical side while tinkering with tempo on the mechanical front.
Opener "It's Love", a fuzzed-out and drum-heavy update of fifties pop, fails to hint at Beat's treasures. It's the understated gorgeousness of "My Only Friend" that's most likely to get through to you first -- Knox's vocals are almost unnaturally sweet, and when the song finally expands into Beatles-inspired harmony in its later moments, you'll miss the earlier intimacy.
"The Hell of It" has surprises, too, in the form of decorative piano flourishes and a tight but economical horn section that punctuates the driving 4/4 beat. The fuzzed-out guitar returns on "Everyone's Cool", a rollicking sing-along that deserves to become a pub classic. Similarly, the bouncy "What Do We Do With Love?" tears a page from the Difford and Tillbrook songbook -- though Knox's spartan style copies the essential information onto a Post-It note and tosses the stolen page aside.
"I Wanna Look Like Darcy Clay" is Beat's sonic centerpiece, heavy with swelling, bristling tones and echoey, reverberating vocals. After eight fairly minimal cuts, it's great to hear Knox pulling out the stops and cramming jangling guitars and a throbbing keyboard into the mix. If you liked that, check out "Ghost", which turns the energy up even higher, fanning the flames for a fuzzy, horn-assisted rave-up. And don't assume the album's over after the sweetly sentimental "Laughter" -- there's unlisted fun to come.
Knox's music falls into a gray area. Like many promising songwriters, his work is witty and hummable, but lacks that intangible "immediacy" that garners instant raves and rapt attention. It took several spins for Beat to really get through to me; initially pegged as an At a Glance review, it wound up a Pick due to repeat listening. Unless Knox gets serious airplay on a forward-thinking radio station, most of you won't have that luxury. That's why I have to encourage you to take a risk. Knox invested a lot of time in Beat. If you give it a few hours of your own time, they won't be squandered. Trust me.
