With its serpentine style of postgrad guitar rock, Portland, Oregon,
quartet the Joggers come across as raucous relatives of the Shins.
Opener "Loosen Up" rides atop chiming sleigh bells as singer Ben
Whitesides contemplates life, the universe and everything: "All of our
time burns inside the sun/Nothing can be done." "Hot Autism" is twitchy
and full of energy. Whitesides' borderline yodel occasionally evokes
the voice of the kid in class who always knows the answers, but he's
never annoying, thanks tothe band's frequent four-part harmonies. On
"The Trap," the Joggers transform the loneliness of these long-distance
runners into something buoyant and beautiful. "Maybe I should cringe
forever," Whitesides wonders on "Blurred Digits." No need, dude, even
for a minute.
Band website: www.thejoggers.com