Matthew Sweet: Sunshine Lies

Sometimes it's about trying something new, and

sometimes it's about finding an old groove. When Matthew Sweet cut the 1991

album Girlfriend,

he bundled his obsessions into tight, starry-eyed, dark-hearted songs that

sounded forward-looking in spite of their debt to '60s pop. Much of the album's

distinctive sound came from punk-era guitarists—Robert Quine and

Television's Richard Lloyd—who dropped carefully implemented bits of

chaos into songs brought to life by an assured band that included session ace

Greg Leisz and drummer Ric Menck. Quine and Lloyd stuck around for two more

almost-as-good albums, and Sweet never soared as high with subsequent lineups.

Sunshine Lies reunites that team in part for the second

time this decade. (Lloyd, Leisz, and Menck previously rejoined Sweet for the

little-heard 2003 album Kimi Ga Suki—originally a Japan-only release—and

Quine's 2004 death then made a full reunion impossible.) Sunshine Lies doesn't quite capture the

old flash, though it does bottle some of the lightning. Sweet's vocals sound

strained at times, and some of his lyrics could use another pass. (For the

worst instance of both, look to "Room To Rock," which finds Sweet doing his

best Tom Petty impression.) But the best tracks are sure to please old fans. "Byrdgirl"

has the guitar work and harmonies to back up its name, and the title track is

an ambitious, Brian Wilson-inspired stunner. Consistent, it isn't, but Sunshine

Lies has

moments that make 2008 sound like 1995 trying to revive 1965 all over again.