I really don't have an excuse for why I like Two Dollar Guitar's new album as much as I do. Their fiercest critic, namely my friend James, argues that they sound like every other band in the universe, and that they present themselves as something different makes them worthy of dismissal. I disagree with James. I'm electing Two Dollar Guitar as the quintessential indie rock band of the moment, if for no other reason than because they do sound so much like that unnamed band plugging away in the back of the bar when your trying to have a conversation with and drink a pale ale.

Listen, I hang out in the East Village, Two Dollar guitar play in the East Village, it's like we know one another. And they know that, so they know their songs aren't going to change anyone's life. So some of them try, and some of them are just kinda flip. And the ones that try are coated in sarcasm, too. I"ll explain.

Among the songs that try are "White Ape" and "Kilroy." Both feature guest Christina Rosenvinge doing her best Nico as lead singer. She trades off with Tim Foljahn, joining recent Gilberto bandwagon acts like Semi-Gloss, or the some tunes on the last Yo La Tengo album. Whereas the other acts had a phony clean thing going, the jangling chords underneath these songs sound newly thought-up, and halfway forgotten.

The rest of the album features Tim Foljan in his low, bored demeanor. Leonard Cohen if he cleared his throat. The songs start out depressed and miserable, and the crescendo to angry rock. Then they quickly go away.

The high point of Weak Beats and Lame-Ass Rhymes, for me, is the eighth track, clocking in at seven-and-a-half minutes. A low, slow indie rock song about wasted time, unfulfilled desires and haunting, dark dreams. It is as gloomy as anything you've heard . . . then the punchline: you check the title. "Stones vs. Zep." It's a big fat winky-face, an ode to things that don't matter. "Wasted time, where did I go wrong? Between the wine, the women and the song." There's a riff in there somewhere, very concentrated, yet still concentrated. You can't make this stuff up, these emotions are for real. Two Dollar Guitar hates themselves and they want to die.

The most controversial track on the record is the closer, "Everybody's In A Band." Using those same damned chords again, we hear the slow, late night complaint.

Everybody's in a band, everybody's in a band, we'll it's more than I can stand, everybody clap your hand, everybody's in a band . . .
Everybody wrote a book, somebody told 'em that they should. Well it isn't any good, but you better take a look, act like you understood . . .
Everybody's got a script. Just need someone to back it. Well, it's all about the kids, and their sick and twisted kicks, sure to be a hit . . .
Everybody's born to act. Well it's just a natural fact. Torn from the womb at last, free from your boring past, everybody's born to act. (Here come the drums) . . .
Hey all you renaissance geniuses, you know we wanna see it all. Your vaginas and penises, your feces is, masterpieces—oh. And I'm guilty of all of it. Yeah, I'm guilty of all of it. I am taking golden shits, shitting out gold bricks, and its all gold in here . . .
Everybody's in a band . . .

Now, yes, I am aware that, on a purely "been there done that" level, there is nothing new here. When I was in high school my friends were in a band that were just terrible, and their big closer was a two-chord song called "We Suck" that invited the audience to scream out, "You suck!" But for whatever reason, I"m buying it from Two Dollar Guitar. The right tenor of stupidity is there. It's got that old Replacements stink to it, if you know what I mean.

There's something conforting in these songs. 'Cause if your in a bar, and you can't think of anything to say to the people you are with, you can always watch the band. I'm learning that that's also true in your own home.