Write them in

The Presidents bid for re-election

by Franklin Soults

A sharp sense of humor might get a fun-lovin' group a novelty hit or two -- a "Sweater Song" or "Bitchin' Camaro" or "Disco Duck" -- but over the long haul, even the best joke bands need something more if they want to stick around. It could be a knack for pop-culture parody (the Coasters), or a unique sense of pan-cultural irony (Camper Van Beethoven). Or, in the case of the modest joke band the Presidents of the United States of America, it could just be a new way to string a guitar. For this trio of party-hearty goofballs, that small difference initially made all the difference between the threat of one-hit burnout and the promise of Alternative Nation naturalization.

The hit was their 1995 breakthrough "Lump," a silly bit of hooky pizzazz that promised nothing at all. The lyrics were free associations about an inanimate object -- their favorite topic -- and the tune was a conventional example of good old-fashioned sing-along frat rock, as was every other cut on their homonymous Columbia Records debut. Occasionally the album was spiced up with touches of Chili Pepper funk, but it was best defined by "We're Not Going To Make It," a rousing punk chant that enumerated the trio's shortcomings with cheery candor ("There's a million better bands/With a million better songs").

The thing was, they never really believed the sentiment was true. In the center of the CD booklet was a simple line drawing of two carefully crafted secret weapons they knew would prove it: a two-string "basitar" played by lead vocalist Chris Ballew and a three-string "guitbass" played by second vocalist Jason Finn. These customized guitar/bass hybrids gave their cutesy and conventional songs a spacious, hollow, galvanizing twang whose effect was subtle but crucial. The sound was almost as subliminal as the two-bass attack that gives Girls Against Boys their elusive edge, but it was more than enough to distinguish the Presidents from outdated peers like Too Much Joy -- and that was just enough to earn them a rep as well as a hit.

But is it enough to earn them a repeat performance? The cleverly titled The Presidents of the United States of America II (Columbia, due in stores November 5 -- Election Day, natch) answers that question by dodging it. The new album opens and closes with a two-part mock tribute to '80s arena rock called "Ladies and Gentlemen:" "Good evening ladies and gentlemen/What is your desire?/Hello ladies and gentlemen/Explosions and fire." It's funny all right, but their mockery is as disingenuous as the fuck-all attitude of "We're Not Going To Make It." All they really want, after all, is to be zany and lovable superstars-next-door exactly like their arena-rock predecessors -- a pared-down Cheap Trick, maybe, or a hipper Huey Lewis and the News.

On the surface, they secure this status by repeating the basic approach of their debut: lots of I-IV-V rockers with plenty of guitbass/basitar twang, more goofy nonsense lyrics, and loads of chipper attitude to burn. But underneath this, they've fine-tuned their method in a way that's as crucial and subtle as the sound of their mutant guitars. Against the usual expectations, their sudden fame seems to have taken them out of their sandbox and brought them in contact with the real world (or at least The Real World).

Sometimes this just means that they beef up their arrangements with some piano or shaking maracas, touches that carefully fill out their sound without softening its edge. But elsewhere the real-world connection comes out in a very winning earnestness about the good life. If "Bug City," "Twig," and "Puffy Shoes" are just more songs about animals and goop, the mildly countrified "Bath of Fire," the rocking "Mach 5" (their best single yet, says I), and the tempo-shifting Robert Palmer tribute "Lunatic to Love" all heartily enjoy grown-up pleasure objects -- the opposite sex, automobiles, nights on the town. Several other numbers have plenty to say about the pleasure object with which they earn a living. (Of these, my fave is probably "Volcano," which I take to be a metaphor for the unpredictable thrill we all derive from ever-shifting rock-and-roll scenes.) Suddenly, their nonsense lyrics aren't just goofs, they're connecting with the pop culture at large. Shoegazing fans of mope rock and other disaffected bohemians will still cry bloody murder, of course, but Presidents II is a tiny triumph. Even more than their debut, it's solid proof that the joky heart of rock and roll is still beatin'.