The Stranger’s Six

Nominated three years in a row for the best punk band by The San Diego Music Awards and claiming to possess “spellbinding mystery, stylish panache and sinister intrigue,” The Stranger’s Six sure know how to sell themselves. Reading on their website that they have “turned heads with raucous revelry in punk nostalgia and pop excitement,” I was ready for my world to be rocked when I popped A Date With Daylight, the band’s sophomore release, into my CD player.

If your expectations are anything like mine were, prepare for disappointment. While their self-possessed and stylish poses on their website may claim panache, there is nothing mysterious or intriguing about the bland, repetitive songs that make up the thirty-six and a half minutes of this album. All eleven tracks are barely distinguishable from one another, making it almost sound like a thirty-six minute song with no end. Many tracks even start with almost the same guitar line, which, even if it were amazing, you only want to hear so many times before boredom sets in.

The main weakness of the album, however, is the vocals. With weak melodies and an almost bored sounding frontman, Aaron Thompson, it’s difficult to find the “pop excitement” we were promised, let alone any excitement at all. Each track stays within a very limited vocal range, one that is pretty much shared among every song. Thompson has a fondness for constantly repeating the same note and most of the songs are lacking any sort of hook to linger in the mind after the initial listen.

This is not to say that the album is devoid of quality or promise. Parts of many of the tracks have some great parts, hinting at the energy their stage show possesses, which apparently “charm[s] a spirit of diehard passion alongside honest rock and roll.” The opening number “Back to the Start,” starts with driving rhythms and a thick sound. This, unfortunately, proves to be a constant problem when in competition with Thompson’s weak and low vocal range. The rest of the band has more energy and a much richer sound, making the overall sound off-balance. The song also lacks a strong melody, making the chorus a let down. Here and there, you can find a nugget of a good song lost amongst the sameness: the line “love letter, love letter to the ones I can’t remember,” in the track “Love Letter”; the first quarter of “Hiss and Hearse,” which opens with a popping guitar sound, and spare, clean vocals. But, by the chorus, most of the songs could be interchangeable.

Most of the incongruity between the band’s projected image and reality is their promise of being a punk band worthy of being nominated the best of San Diego. Is San Diego really that soft? Yes, there are some driving beats and hard guitar riffs, but overall, their sound neither “raises eyebrows to social expectations,” nor “sings mournfully across a chorus of modern youthful struggles,” as the band promises. Perhaps I’m simply confusing mournfulness with boredom. There is nothing in these songs to suggest the youthful, rebellious spirit one would expect in a good punk band. In “Hiss and Hearse,” they lament, “…the price of youth and vice is coming down” but without much spite or rebellion. Maybe all of this promised youthful excitement and energy comes out in their live shows ad somehow got lost in the recording process. Overall, however, I think Thompson says it best when, in “Skin Your Teeth,” he sings, “I made a mess, I made a mess, I need a little intervention please.”

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