Indie or Alt. Country?
Todd Binder's Alameda succeeds on many levels

Listen to the review and the album here.

Listening to Alameda, the latest album by former Elephant Minor front man Todd Binder, is a little like being stuck on a road trip with a bunch of friends with varying musical tastes while they duke it out over what song to listen to next. But the crazy thing about this schizophrenic album is that it actually really works, and that even if that album as a whole doesn't seem quite sure what it wants to be,  its nevertheless full of gems that worm their ways into your ear and stay there for days. Take Sun Ray, the album's opening volley, which, for me, is the perfect song for rolling down your car windows in the summertime.

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Don't lose your way, Todd Binder cautions us as we begin our journey into Alameda. But it isn't long before the album meanders away from the carefree beaches of Jack Johnson territory, crosses the railroad tracks, and plunges headfirst into a dark, smoke-filled, country bar.

Those last two tracks, "Real Love" and "Easy, Kinda," respectively, represent some of the albums most soaring moments, those moments that make you want to tap your toes or maybe jump on top of a table. But if Alameda sometimes soars, it also have moments that dip into moments of true pathos. One of my favorite examples of this is a song called "I Could Use You," which isn't just merely sad, but sad in the kind of way that would be fun to sing along with at the top of your lungs.

"I Could Use You," along with "Real Love" and "Easy, Kinda," threaten to place the album squarely in alt country territory, but Alameda also has aspirations in other musical genres. My favorite example of this is the title track, which unlike the aforementioned songs, which would all feel at home on an alt country album like Ryan Adams' Heartbreaker, is more akin to something one would run across while listening to The Shins or Guster.

And for those of you familiar with his last band, Elephant Minor, rest assured: Todd Binder still displays some contemporary jazz chops with songs like "Doubt," which play with beats and rests in moments that feel simultaneously extemporaneous as well as meticulously rehearsed in a way that only comes with years of hanging out with other musicians.

So what is Alameda? It's a grand tour of musical genres. It's a musicians album by a musicians musician. It'll make you drum your thumbs on your steering wheel one moment and then roll up your windows and have a good cry the next. And above all else, it's a great listen as long as you take the very advice it gives you in the first song: don't lose your way; don't lose your nerve.