hen Mike Kinsella emerged from his not-too-shabby high school gig as the indomitable Cap’n Jazz drummer, he, unwittingly or not, made a visionary move by eschewing the spasmodic incantations of his old band in favor of quiet, lovelorn weepers, tendered, kitchen sink and all, on a quietly arpeggiating guitar. His first vehicle for this music was the short-lived American Football, who released one noteworthy EP and a fantastic LP (both self-titled) of weaving, jazzy tunes that were unchallenging, yet entirely inviting. Following that band’s dissolution, he holed up in his apartment and cut Owen’s self-titled 2002 debut. The infinitely subdued personality of the songs bespoke their public-living origins. Owen was a gorgeously dreamy record that found Kinsella (wisely) burying his thin voice (and sometimes cringe-worthy lyricism) under a wistful haze of layered guitar and swirling ambiance, yet this was no self-serving electronic outing; the music found on the album was gloriously organic, and therein lied its strength.


Despite the record’s appeal, I was surprised to see another album under this particular guise. Many may disagree, but one of the things that I like so much about Mike and his brother, Tim is their unwillingness to stay in one place for too long. With the exception of the semi-collaborative Joan of Arc, none of their collective eight projects have made it past the one album mark, much to their benefit. With Owen, there was really only one place to go: up. More guitars, bass, drums; instruments that potentially belie the heart of the project. While the sophomore No Good For No One Now is a much clearer, poppier, and more grounded work, it doesn’t stray too far from the framework of the first album, yet with Kinsella’s songwriting now taking center stage, trouble occasionally abounds.


Listening to his albums, you gotta wonder what the female race has against old Mike. When does this guy go to work or the grocery store? Is his life just one long, pensive conflict resolution session with his ex? That’s what these songs would have you believe, and with titles like “Nobody’s Nothing”, “Poor Souls”, and “I’m Not Going Out Tonight”, No Good For No One Now isn’t much of a varied record, thematically. Nevertheless, its extensive pity makes for evocative listening, and, unlike the overwhelming majority of most emoting-guy-with-a-guitar music, Kinsella’s never feels formulated or trite, just occasionally overbearing. The stark flippancy that accompanies lines like “what else in this fucking empty room/reminds me of fucking you” is alarming, but guilelessness is an apparent trademark of Kinsella’s more focused (and, by virture, forthright) lyrical style, and it’s an inevitable part of this record.


Musically, Kinsella acquits himself quite well. His markedly off-kilter drumming is featured seamlessly on “I’m Not Going Out Tonight” (albeit in a more downcast form), along with digital handclaps and electric guitar. Although these advances make No Good seem like The Soft Bulletin when compared to the first album, they’re still hardly distracting. The adverse effect, however, is that the fuller arrangements bring the songs closer to the standard indie pop that Kinsella so gracefully eluded on his debut. The opener, “Nobody’s Nothing” slips into mere pleasantry, when the potential for ingenuity is clearly present.


Moving beyond the minor flaws that distance the record from its predecessor, No Good reveals frequent flashes of greatness. The folk-y lullabye of “Good Deeds” is Kinsella’s most traditional song yet, as well as one of his best. It’s on tracks like this that he finally connects to his most prevalent influences-- Nick Drake, Mark Kozelek, and Stephen Meritt among them--without the slightest pretense of imitation.As “Take Care of Yourself”, the lush ten-minute closer, fades out, you’re not left with the feeling that you’ve been cheated or let down, but you don’t feel as though you’ve heard a truly great album, either. You just feel satisfied. Sure, that leaves a little to be desired, but a little contentment goes a long way.