Winnipeg indie-poppers Latka begin their gleeful debut record, ‘My Bright Heart’, with a rather questionable juxtaposition. “You think you’re making history / living in infamy”, nasals lead singer, Milos Mitrovic, almost jovially, about the arrival of an American soldier in Iran. The playful musical backdrop of ‘The Arrival’ makes the intended political comment seem rather frivolous. Instead, the song comes across as a feeble attempt to pad out the recurring lyrical themes of the album – the fumbling’s of adolescent relationships, mostly – by way of a trite ‘political song’. Ending up with something akin to Boy George’s anti-war effort.
Lyrics don’t seem to be the band’s forte as such and with this in mind, let us skip ahead to one or two lyrical cringes to exemplify this fact. Let’s take for instance, the chorus of ‘A Love Song’, where Mitrovic proclaims that, “I know that she know’s for sure / I feel like Roger Moore / But I’m zero to hero for her / and this I know for sure.” It’s hard to tell whether or not this was intended to be tongue-in-cheek, but it does a very good job at creating a brief moment of awkwardness between the band and the listener.
Another bout of lyrical balderdash can be found on album closer ‘Poly Prescriber To Bad Commitments (You and I)’, where Mitrovic continues, “Ten weeks I was a whore, never more / Waiting on the yellow disco / Five days out of the week I played hide and seek / and I found myself in a dream I never dreamed”. I should think the band are probably just as confused as I am about the meaning behind this one.
Latka’s musical efforts don’t fair much better. Although, mainly due to their glossy pop production, there are moments on My Bright Heart which are perfectly pleasant. In particular, ‘Young and Entitled’, which showcases violinist, Eric Ross’s, very nice interweaving sweeps of melody — something which he offers throughout the album. But the happy-go-lucky approach of Latka’s guitar-pop is far too cutesy for it’s own good. One might describe them as a castrated version of Yellowcard, with a mild whiff of Walt Disney, à la Jonas Brothers.
It’s quite clear from the outset though that these four young innocent cornballs are only out to have a bit of wide-eyed fun. But they do bring about a slight itch to pull the plug on them momentarily, and enquire as to why they feel the need to be so unabashedly sappy about everything. Musical candy floss for teeny-boppers and those in a state of arrested development. Keep away if you wish to prevent your toes from curling.
ANDREW BAYLISS