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Hayden
ELK-LAKE SERENADE
(Badman)
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Whoever would have thought wussiness could be a trend? Talking Heads went egghead and threatened songs about buildings and food, but today’s singer-songwriter goes straight to mom’s fridge, pours a tall glass of milk, and reminisces about childhood summers, imagined girlfriends, and the comings and goings of his cat ("Woody"), who apparently has more of a life than Canada’s Hayden. What’s more, this terrain has been thoroughly worked over by Red House Painter Mark Kozelek, who runs the Badman label. Still, if you work past the cloying sentiment and get in touch with your inner Tapestry, the gentle wash of acoustic guitar, piano, and sun-dried harmonies that forms the foundation of Hayden’s fourth solo album will feel like a time-travel trip to the laid-back vibe of the early 1970s. Although Hayden is a glass-half-empty mope-rocker, he’s got some Ray Davies cheek that surfaces both in his quavering un-self-assured vocal delivery and in his Minolta-moment songwriting. "Hollywood Ending" sounds like Lola taking another trip to the dance floor; "Don’t Get Down" lopes along like a Muswell Hillbilly. In "My Wife," the narrator eyes his unwelcome visitor with suspicion: "You’re looking right at my wife like she’s part of the dinner we’re serving you." Apparently, even sentimental suckers can smell a rat. (Hayden performs this Sunday, June 20, upstairs at the Middle East, 472 Massachusetts Avenue in Central Square; call 617-864-EAST.)
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