Jangling Our Interest in Clean, Crisp Guitar Licks

I have a theory that every pop trend comes back in fashion 15 years after it first arrived. So, here we are, 15 years after R.E.M. began its ascension with a jangling guitar sound and nicely harmonized vocal arrangements that updated the Byrds with some added thrust.

The style grew tiresome through incessant imitation and repetition (R.E.M. was as guilty as the rest, but in the early ‘90s, the band began finding ways to broaden its sound that keep its work interesting even today).

It got to the point where the jangle that had seemed so welcome and organic in the mid-’80s became an excuse, by the late ‘80s, to tune out Johnny-come-lately janglers as uninspired hacks, with exceptions for the occasional winning bit from the likes of the Gin Blossoms and the Connells.

The Friendly Indians mainly live and die by the jangle, and--wouldn’t you know it--after guitar rock’s recent overdose on punkish distortion and new-metal’s concrete-like heaviness, those clean, crisp, ringing riffs sound pretty fresh and attractive again.

Tim Meltreger and Stev Franks give as fluent and punchy a rendition of the old guitar sound as you could ask; Meltreger lends zing with his sharply etched solos. The Friendly Indians often steer the jangle toward a country twang, which helps avoid sameness. Franks, the lead singer, has found a solid synthesis of Stipe-like reediness and Jaggeresque drawl, with strong harmony support from Meltreger.

Franks is a good role player, coming up with conversational inflections and idiosyncratic phrasings that make it sound as if characters are communicating, as opposed to a rock singer singing. Drummer Jason Barrett and bassist Ken Dusman keep everything moving along cleanly, confidently and with a good, kinetic spark. The Friendly Indians never make a sonic mess, and that’s nice for a change.

The band has improved in every way over its 1997 debut CD, “Greetings . . . From Lake Delores.” The songwriting has become more pointed and colorful. Most of the lyrics are character studies examining the flaws of everyday friends or lovers. But for some reason, I kept thinking there was a cumulative personality profile of Bill Clinton being developed in several songs.

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With titles including “Spin,” about an oily figure who covers up his/her lies with smooth talk, and “Acceptance Speech,” in which the protagonist isn’t necessarily political but has the politician’s penchant for keeping an enemies list and plotting payback when the opportunity arises, the Friendly Indians seem to invite the listener to think of a broader social dimension even though the songs are couched in personal terms.

The band has a penchant for novelty songs along with the more serious stuff, and on “Pure Genius” it pulls off some good ones, which is no small feat.

“Fat Tuesday,” set to a shuffling, country-Cajun beat, gives a jaundiced yet affectionate look at the excess that is New Orleans at Mardi Gras; “Catalina” is a fun genre exercise--an old-timey, vaudevillian rag, complete with a sung-through-a-megaphone vocal. “Chupacabras” melds surf-guitar riffing with Mexican flamenco drama as Franks, singing in Spanish with overheated, broadly comical theatrics, generates humor with a streak of real fear attached--like something out of “The World According to Garp.” Chupacabras, the livestock-killing beast of recent Mexican folklore, becomes a symbol for existential dread over the general precariousness of life.

The most memorable track, unlikely as it might seem, is the silliest novelty number in the batch. “Ken’s Beard” takes a one-joke idea--this Ken fellow has a really dirty, disgusting mound of facial hair--and turns it into a marvelous tall tale through the sheer weight of clever, fanciful accretion.

Barenaked Ladies will kick themselves when they hear this one, and please don’t let KROQ get hold of it, lest it thicken the station’s already tangled undergrowth of pop novelties.

(Available from the Friendly Indians, P.O. Box 1358, Sunset Beach, CA 90742; [714] 441-2547. E-mail: injunrock@aol.com)

Albums are rated on a scale of one star (poor) to four stars (excellent).

Mike Boehm can be reached by e-mail at Mike.Boehm@latimes.com.