Songs From the Easy Chair

It happens often enough in this town: boy moves to Nashville with band; band breaks up; boy joins new band, quits, goes solo, almost gets sued, reverts to original band name. In this case, the boy who came to town is Benjamin Adam Harper, who debuted the The Comfies in Murfreesboro in ’98 with a revolving cast of characters that culled members from future bands like Whole Fantastic World and The Privates. Two years later, Harper found himself performing low-end duties for Feable Weiner until deciding to go solo. The threat of legal action from the Australian harmonica player Harper forced a moniker change that led him back to the original. Joining Harper now in this snuggly named venture are Nathan Hansen on bass, Sam Smith on drums and Raf Cevallos on a little bit of everything. Close to Me is an accomplished-sounding debut from a band whose arrangements are well thought out, and who obviously enjoy playing hopscotch (or maybe it’s Boggle) with their influences. In some ways, Close is an ’00s take on the ’80s’ take on the ’60s—The Comfies are cooking over fires left burning by bands like The Posies or Velvet Crush, with a dash of Bowie and big sprigs of Mersey. But it’s no myopic nostalgia act: they throw in anachronisms like human beatbox, fat synthesizers and even a Weezeresque pop-punk interlude, while sewing their source materials into flashier patterns. And with its nonstop carousel of instrument/vocal overdubs, Close serves notice that The Comfies are willing to try every trick in the book. And they have a lot of books. Harper cites The Zombies as one of his primary influences, and nowhere is this admission less necessary than on the opening bars of “Understanding 23,” where he sings liltingly over a stark piano part that doubles his vocal melody. It could have been lifted from a lost demo of “Brief Candles,” but then the band kicks in and, while you can still hear traces of Odessey & Oracle, the melody starts jumping around the scale like the Beach Boys colliding with Billy Joel. It has a show tune’s bounce—you can almost see dancers doing leg kicks around a true baby blue Continental. Then they dim the lights and get theatrical and epic, complete with harmonies straight out of “Bohemian Rhapsody.” Then it’s quiet again, then bouncy. A discordant wash lets us know the song is over, and all this takes place in the span of three-and-a-half minutes. It’s in this kind of adventurous songwriting that the band seem worthy of their forebears, and their musicianship—tight and competent—is up to the challenge. The emotional energy has its lapses, moments when Harper’s voice can’t quite break through, like he’s stomping on the gas in a car that just doesn’t quite have the horsepower. But spewing fire from the tailpipes isn’t The Comfies’ game, and they know it. On the airy meringue of a song “In Your Room,” and on the earnest closer, “Dear Mrs. Anderson,” Harper demonstrates that the lower registers of his voice offer a much more expressive set of colors. On the whole, The Comfies come across as both able-bodied and smart, and in its best moments, Close to Me delivers pop that feels cozily at home.