Soaring melodic vocals over some nice acoustic guitars made me yawn for a splut second on the opening track of the latest Grandaddy EP. "Here we go," I thought. Another f*** with a guitar. Thankfully that pussy acoustic was interrupted quite abruptly by some decent heavy rock guitar and Atari-like synthesiser setting the tone for the latest Jason Lytle Meandering.

  
  

Under the pretence of Jason Lytle going back to his old friend Todd Zilla's letters (untrue, sadly as it would have been a great art project) and using the lyrics he wrote to him, Lytle has taken Grandaddy's brand of pop rock and put them to the angst-y ramblings of an underdeveloped over the top Californian teenager.

  
  

A lot of people haven't thought that highly of Grandaddy's lyrics in the past but I've always found his childish viewpoints of the world somewhat endearing. Glazed over ideas of love, robots telling you where you and your lover are. It's a sort of immature charm you would find in a suburban boy whose never had to work a day in his life. The sort of world, painted by Grandaddy, that leaves you trapped in the constant dream of teenage hood where you're not quite old enough to leave, but not young enough to be tricked into believing everything is ok.

  
  

'Todd's' "Killer words" as he puts them include the gorgeous lyrics such as "the engine in his heart/gets dirty then don't start/then it all just falls apart".

  
  

As the album progresses the synthesiser wanes from relentlessly rowdy to hushed and foreboding as Lytle whispers "I don't know though I've been wonderin'/who wrote that rule".

  
  

Glorious classical piano leads you into the most epic and gorgeous lyrics of the album in Fuck the valley Fudge.

  
  

Lytle's high pitched American whine is the sort that could get on your nerves at times, I found more so on this EP than on their pervious works. Perhaps this means that the music itself was lacking a bit like Lytle has been listening to too much of Beck's "Sea Change" – although this EP is far more interesting and less "what the fuck happened here" than Beck's woeful offering – but that's another story.

  
  

It's not all one long lamentation for youth – Florida is one happy go lucky sharp edge Belle and Sebastian track – if Stuart Murdoch had smoked a few cigarettes – as Lytle screeches and spits lines like "I don't take no shit from anyone".

  
  

Disappointingly the closing song Goodbye? is a predictable choice. Why bands insist on sticking washed out acoustic guitar tracks on the end of a perfectly good release is beyond me. Although any band that brings back the whistle solo (even if it does sound a little too close to John Lennon) is ok by me.

  
  

If Todd Zilla really existed I'd probably like this release a lot more, but as it stands – it's a diverse little EP that showcases everything that is good about Grandaddy. If you haven't already heard them I'd probably not start here – go listen to "" then come and love "Excerpts" for what it is.

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