Robbers on High Street carries '90s mantle

In the mid-1990s, the genre of piano rock found its salvation in the fingers of Ben Folds, then the head of a 3-man outfit with a smiliar name. As the creative force behind the "Five," Folds took piano rock and made it cool, made it accessible, made it decent pop music. He continues to kick ass in the mild sense, largely alone, but rightly so, since few possess his talent and charisma. Fast forward.

In the late 1990s, the genre of garage rock usurped the power of the radio and, in a fit of promiscuity, spawned the most cohesive movement of pop music since Justin Timberlake's boyish fro vied with a still-skinny, pre-Paris and therefore wholesome Nick Carter for primetime viewability on TRL. The White Stripes, The Strokes and countless other "The" bands carried the torch into the new century, predicated on simplicity of production, unorthodox and/or eccentric lead singers (with weird voices, to boot) and relentless rhythm guitars. Fast forward.

If I had to guess — since admittedly I don't really know — I'd say that Robbers on High Street locate their musical-temporal epicenter around 1998. This crew, a foursome of twenty-somethings hailing from Poughkeepsie, New York, represents a curious merger of the aforementioned genres. In a way, it's Ben Folds meets Julian Casablancas meets production equipment with a firmness of composition couched in the classics. Everybody got that?

Tree City is the Robbers' first stab at a full-length LP that, for all its rookie shortcomings, is a laudable effort nonetheles. "Spanish Teeth" opens the album. Strikingly regular in terms of pace and rhythm, the track exemplifies the lighter side of the genre fusion described above. The song features both piano and guitar, though neither controls the song and they never coexist in full force.

In contrast to said regularity is frontman Ben Trokan, who boasts an expansive vocal range despite his tendency toward tonal flatness. He sings confidently atop the instrumentation. On "Beneath the Trees," he bears an erratic but quirky similarity to one of the Gallagher brothers (probably the less talented one).

The Robbers seem to be at their best on "Descender." They succeed here by avoiding the temptation to overplay. Everything is slow and relaxed: a steady, cymbal-driven percussion supports two guitar tracks, creating a flow that stays obedient to the song's time signatures. Trokan contributes on this one by abandoning a terminal verse. Instead, he allows the slow guitar dance to round out the song's concluding 90 seconds.

Incidentally, "Descender," as the album's best composition, is also its longest, at 3:50 minutes. Nine of Tree City's thirteen tracks clock in at under three minutes, a trend which I could attribute to inexperience or lack of vision but choose to identify as a simple byproduct of genre: no one really needs 7-minute piano solos. The concordance is worth noting, whatever the cause.

The first five seconds of "Love Underground" reveal the candor of the Robbers' debt to The Strokes; it's a dead ringer, hands down. "The Prince & Style" plays out like a lounge jazz tune and features one of only a few feminine contributions to the LP — a delicate harmony that complements the primary vocal track so well, we have to wonder why it doesn't appear more often.

Tree City's next four tracks, which seem to make up the reject pile, are strategically placed toward the album's end but are conveniently supported by the strength of the finale, "Montifiore." This one is slow and deliberate with a percussion-heavy piano and a legitimate falsetto outro from Trokan.

Mission accomplished: I've already forgotten about tracks 9-12. The rest is up for interpretation, as Tree City seems to traverse peaks and valleys over the course of 45 minutes. As a debut, it is a strong declaration for the Robbers, but there's definitely some room for improvement. For the songs, I prescribe the Wonderbra™ treatment: "lift and separate".

Yeah . . . and by that, I mean "lengthen and diversify."