I bought Look At Who You’re Talking To at my local Newbury Comics after reading a review that likened Human Television to The Rain Parade. The shop only had one copy; though a week later, when I saw another stocked, I talked my girlfriend into buying it for herself.
We spent the whole summer listening to the record, but then didn’t play it for awhile. When I dusted it off a couple weeks ago, I got that sensation that folks my age -- folks who are sorta lying when they say they remember Nirvana -- get when they reminisce. It's a feeling that can't be nostalgia, because nostalgia is what our parents feel when they hear Al Green at weddings. I felt what only the sweetest, simplest, dumbest, most disposable pop music can make you feel. There’s no word for it, and there shouldn’t be. It's music that you once fell in love to, that you still think is all yours.
Human Television are from Gainesville, Florida, and while it’s clear they’re well-schooled in regional jangle-pop, they also dig Ride, Black Tambourine, and New Zealand stuff like The Clean, The Bats, The Chills, and The 3Ds. Their guitar sound is cheap and shambling and under-produced, often washing out the vocals completely, while the patchwork, conversational lyrics recall The Wedding Present.
Ten of the album's twelve songs are infectious, sun-kissed soft-rockers, while “I’m Moving On” slinks behind vaporous walls of MBV fuzz and “Untitled” flaunts punchy synth beats. Throughout, Human Television remain surprisingly affecting and unpretentious. And better than The Rain Parade.
