Boys and Girls in America

It wouldn't be surprising to get a buzz after listening to The Hold Steady's album, Boys and Girls in America, for almost every song mentions alcohol or drugs. The eleven-song cycle concerns a rock standard, teenage wasteland. Reminiscent of the mid-70s output of Bruce Springsteen, this music has moved the location from New Jersey to the environs of Minneapolis-St. Paul, but still focuses on aimless youth, who don't look past last night's revels.

The album starts out quoting Jack Kerouac's alter-ego, Sal Paradise: "There are nights when I think that Sal Paradise was right/Boys and girls in America have such a sad time together." The song, "Stuck Between Stations," then goes on to drop the name John Berryman, but as the album wears on, the intellectualism is replaced by a world-weariness that seems too jaded to inhabit such young characters. "Chips Ahoy," the next song has the melancholy line, "We spent the whole next week getting high/I love the girl but I can't tell when she's having a good time."

It goes on. In "Hot Soft Light": "I've been straight since the Cinco de Mayo, before that I was blotto/I was blacked out/I was cracked out/I was caved in." In two different songs is the line, "Gideon's got a pipe made from a Pringles can," which is, I suppose, an impressive feat of engineering. There's even a song called "Citrus," which is a veritable ode to cocktails: "Hey citrus/Hey liquor/I love it when you touch each other." It reaches an apotheosis in an infectious upbeat number, "Chillout Tent," where two kids meet cute after having a bad trip at a rock festival.

As someone who's never been much of imbiber of intoxicating substances, the subject matter of this record is alien to me, but I did enjoy the music. As with the E Street Band, there is heavy use of tinkling pianos, but no saxophone. Taken on its own terms, it's good rowdy party music. If the band is reminiscing about their misspent youth, or making a general comment about the behavior of today's youth, I don't know. There doesn't seem to be a point of view, it just is what it is. The writing is frequently poignant concerning the aspects of romance of the gin-soaked and marijuana-numbed teenagers: "I'm pretty sure we kissed," sings Craig Finn at the end of "Party Pit."

This record was mentioned several times in top ten lists by rock critics at the end of 2006, and I can understand why, given the sophisticated lyrics and music. But it was kind of like hanging out with a guy who is really smart and funny but who will only talk about getting high, when you want to talk about something else, anything else.