For better or for worse, Cobra Starship’s third album, Hot Mess, will forever be linked with the summer of 2009. It won’t be because of a ubiquitous single or a video in heavy rotation. It isn’t due to savvy connections with emo heroes like Pete Wentz or an indie label like Fueled by Ramen. All you need to do is answer one question: Will people remember a Project Runway catchphrase in 50 years?
In Cobra Starship’s defense, Hot Mess is not meant to be a solitary listening experience. It’s a dance record, plain and simple. It probably sounds great in a packed club, thumping out of gargantuan speakers. Unfortunately, people do most of their listening in the confines of their home or their car, and the bump and grind of the club doesn’t translate.
New wave and synth pop are Cobra Starship’s primary influence, but there are lots of other styles in the background. Lead singer Gabe Saporta is a poor man’s version of Fall Out Boy’s Patrick Stump, singing in the same emotive style, but without the range. Synthesizers dominate the entire album, think Soft Cell without the sleaze or Gary Numan without the menace. It works well in small doses.
The leadoff single, “Good Girls Gone Bad,” is one of the best singles of the year. The band pulls out everything in their arsenal for a moment of pop glory. There are synthesizers, hip hop beats, vocoders and a cameo from Gossip Girl star Leighton Meester. If that isn’t enough, it is capped off by the most ridiculous cheerleader chant since Gwen Stefani’s “Hollaback Girl.” Sing along America, you know you want to: “She got a way with the boys in the back, she act like they don’t stand a chance/And he got a way with the girls in the back, acting like they don’t have a chance! That shit is bananas. B-A-N-A-N-A-S.
The band’s strength lies in the up-tempo numbers. “Pete Wentz is the Only Reason We’re Famous,” subtly cops a riff from Paul Engemann’s “Push it to the Limit.” Ryland Blackington’s guitar playing is barely audible over the swelling keyboards, but its presence gives the song an edge that it otherwise wouldn’t have. In a way, the guitar is almost functioning the way a drum kit would, pushing the band along and keeping it all together.
Eventually even the most happening hotspots start to get old, and that’s the main problem with Hot Mess. After a while, the buzzing synths begin to grate. There is no depth behind the synths, so once the dancing stops, the album stops too. The band made a smart move by putting their strongest songs up front, because once the momentum stops, it stops hard.
Hot Mess is not about deep lyrics and cohesive song cycles. It’s about dancing your ass off with a group of incredibly beautiful human beings. On that shallow and aesthetic level, it succeeds.