We often talk of performers who are 'born to rock', but just occasionally it seem as though such things are pre-ordained. Certainly it would appear MILES NEILSEN would fall into this elite category. The son of the celebrated Rick Neilsen from veteran American Power Popsters CHEAP TRICK, he spent most of his childhood on the road, growing up with the band and it turns out that his grandfather and great grandfather before had also lived the dreams of travelling musicians. All things considered, it was pretty unlikely young Miles would end up selling double glazing.
It's also no great surprise to hear that an incisive, melodic streak and a charming way with a hook have been passed down the generations, for Miles Neilsen's debut album - the cunningly-titled 'Miles' - is stuffed to the gills with lashings of great tunes, sunny choruses and the kind of melodic nous most of us would happily sacrifice significant limbs for.
Importantly, though, Neilsen's muse has enough quirks of its' own to ensure he stands out from the power pop pack. Aside from his solo work, he's also a part of hotly-tipped Americana outfit Cory Chisel & The Wandering Sons. Their guitarist Daniel James McMahon is Miles' primary collaborator here, and an Alt. Country bent is also brought to bear on a number of 'Miles” best songs.
Strident opener 'A Festival' is a good example of this hybrid. Leading off with tumbling, faux-classical piano, it soon resembles a more easily recognisable, Beatles-influenced pop fiesta, complete with 'Strawberry Fields'-style mellotron and the George Harrison tinge in Neilsen's voice, but the plaintive harmonica and surprise pedal steel give it some check-shirted, Cosmic credibility which does it no harm at all.
Elsewhere, songs like 'Lost My Mind' and the grainy, Ryan Adams-ish 'Sugaree' quaff even more enthusiastically from the Country well, though both songs have an enviable immediacy, as does the swingin', two-step riot of 'Lucy' where lines like “be careful what you wish for/ next thing I'm knocking on your door” show how adept a lyricist Neilsen can be when he puts his mind to it.
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A similarly wry and witty approach pervades on 'Good Heart Sway', where Neilsen confesses “Lately I can't afford the shoes... I'm afraid to move”over a low-down jazzy boogie, although both 'Martha' and the booze-soaked delights of 'Wine' find him cultivating a grizzled and resigned, Tom Waits fixation which works surprisingly well.
All these diversions are welcome and provide Neilsen with possible future directions. Primarily, though, he remains a gold-plated Power Popper at heart, though, and the chugging delights of songs like 'Gravity Girl' and '1938' will satisfy the most dyed-in-the-wool US Power Pop fan. I'd say the same for the gutsy 'Hey Hey Hey', too, if only its' chorus line wasn't so uncannily close to Bob & Earl's 'Harlem Shuffle'.
Ultimately, familiarity will always go hand in hand with such finely-crafted melodic suss, but this debut rarely breeds contempt and by the time he's signed off with a lush, keening ballad called 'The Crown', he's made it quite clear that his capabilities straddle genres and that there will be a lot more where this comes from in the future. As I'd suspected all along, double glazing's loss is surely our gain on this occasion.
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