Mo Tucker-style support.
Earwig's thirteen numbers range in subject matter from social issues to more personal concerns. In "Cesspool," childish incredulity ("What a nerve!") turns to a militant vow of reprisal ("I'll get my guns and both of my friends/We'll make some righteous amends/Maybe we'll start a trend") when pollution spoils a favorite beach. Many songs are about escaping a stifling relationship or courting postadolescent independence, with Hatfield's voice wriggling free and rising upward – sometimes affectingly, sometimes awkwardly – like a young bird making its first uncertain flight.
Musically, Earwig combines folkish plaintiveness and pop locomotion. On "You Don't Give Up," Strohm moves easily from the dreamy chording of the verses to the rockier crunch of the chorus; finally, as the song rides out, he unleashes an uptempo lead on which he flexes some surprisingly muscular solo chops. Versatile without being flashy, he frames "Rain" with an industrial-strength hard-rock hook and surrounds Hatfield's cool, purring vocals in "From Here to Burma" with a striking, New Age-style guitar study.
Its blending of reach and restraint lends Earwig depth and tension, while the openness of the band's personalities provides immediate appeal and accessibility. The Blake Babies put a fresh-faced spin on alternative American pop that augurs well for the years to come. (RS 571)
PARKE PUTERBAUGH
