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Everything Starts Where It Ends

Lovedrug
The Militia Group

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Lovedrug - Everything Starts Where It Ends Guys, it's time to clear up a major misconception of the past generation: Girls don't like sensitive boys. Well, they like guys who are sensitive, but only as a secondary personality trait. What really turns a lady on are guys who are confident, strong and witty -- and all this self-pity that you emo-generationers have confused with sensitivity (that's a whole other issue) are anathema to that.

It's hard to lay blame for the wiener-kid phenomenon on any one person, but Lovedrug needs to bear its share of the blame. Everything Starts Where It Ends is a testament to the age of the micro-man. Leaving emo's redeeming characteristic -- a hyper-active sense of style and drama -- Lovedrug heads into the breach armed only with a bleeding heart, an aching soul and just enough chutzpah to spin it into mild-mannered alt-pop.

Lovedrug borrows a little from here, a little from there as it patches together a sound that takes the most milquetoast elements of Coldplay, Muse and Copeland to house the spirit of every Sensitive Modern Man -- or at least the spineless and non-threatening version of it. "Thieving" borrows heavily from The Fray's piano-and-apologies bag of tricks, as singer/guitarist Michael Shepard tries to melt hearts with notions of romance picked up secondhand almost entirely from reality television. If "Pushing the Shine" shows a bit of muscle with powerful guitars, Lovedrug only puts them to use to give itself a glam-rock makeover, coming up with a generic Muse and Placebo hybrid that is hardly worth its weight in glitter eye-shadow. "Salt of the Earth" and "Happy Apple Poison" make an argument for Lovedrug as a modern-day singer/songwriter/bandleader with Shepard at its fore, though the anonymous acoustic pop is flaky enough to make Damien Rice look like a tortured soul on par with Elliott Smith. The capper doesn't come until the end, when the eight-minute title track press gangs a small army of studio hands to add strings and piano then smooth the whole affair out with production-end magic. The only problem is Lovedrug's few shreds of dignity get left behind as the band closes the effort with the sort of too-long, tear-soaked embrace you'd expect at the end of a group therapy session, not from a passionate, or even penitent lover.

Lovedrug's world is one where tears, guilt trips and expertly cultivated self-pity are love's primary currency. If that's what romance is all about these days, it's no wonder teenagers are mopey about their love life.

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Everything Starts Where It Ends

Lovedrug The Militia Group

Lovedrug
The Militia Group