Another True Fiction
Here’s an album that deserves all the consideration it takes to accurately aim the circular waste of compact disc technology into the nearest garbage can. All Jeremy Toback has going for him are endlessly repeating choruses, the nauseating smoothness of Matchbox 20, and song after song full of unintelligent clichés (which leaves even the album title victim) and uninspired first-hand accounts. An off-the-mark recreation of every soft-rock band that ever hit the radio, not one tune strays from the same ridiculous formula and each has the attention-grabbing power of grass growing.
There isn’t a single thing that makes this record stand out from the countless others it’s emulating. Everything from the occasional inclusion of strings to the way every song starts out with just one instrument playing is enough to claim Jeremy Toback as one of the most bland and prosaic artists this year has yet to see.
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