Truth & Volume marks the debut of Jon Yeager, former member of the now defunct Daybirds. I have to admit that I’m a pretty tough customer when it comes to buying into new music. I have dozens of promo CDs from fledgling bands that have been reincarnated as coasters. I decided to listen to Truth & Volume a few times then put it away to see if it claimed any mental real estate. Within a day I found myself humming songs from the EP and replaying it repeatedly to find the deeper meaning of each song.
The first track, “Summer Under A Strange Sky” opens with a stark, driving, rhythm section and grows into an artful layers and tastefully, lilting guitar arpeggios throughout. The second track, “Thief in the Night” seamlessly wraps up tempo rhythm and guitar glister around a subtly downcast lyrical theme. Yeager’s vocals complete the recipe offering cool, melodic resolve to the mix. Yeager sings, “This is the point where I let things go…My life it doesn’t matter. That’s what it said there on his note…the man hanging from the rafter. I guess he found ever after.” This is easily one of the strongest tracks on the Truth & Volume. The Beatle-esque, “Great Movies”, effectively showcases Pop-smart arrangements and pristine vocals. The guitar and vocal intro hooked me and the remainder of the song delivered the goods. “Great Movies” is a perfect example of the importance and power of melody. Yeager shows consistent, skillful tunesmithing and vocal styling on the remaining tracks. Upon first listen, the retro, mid-tempo “Black Boy” seemed like a sticky, sweet, ballad, in the genre of songs by 50s and 60s acts like The Skyliners or The Fleetwoods. After listening more closely to the lyrics, came the reveal. “Black Boy” is actually a venerating ode to the late Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. referencing his march on Washington D.C. Yeager manages to neatly pack this socio-cultural commentary into a solid, stylish song without sounding preachy or maudlin. “Without You” is an atmospheric acoustic piece that initially evokes feeling of a perfect lazy Sunday and gradually builds into a driving, cavalcade of layered vocals and haunting guitar riffs. Even though this track breaches what I call “Pop Song Critical Mass” at 7 minutes 12 seconds (1 second longer than The Beatle’s “Hey Jude”), it does so with passion.
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