On their first album for Germany's Marina Records, singer/songwriter David Scott and keyboardist Brian McAlpine offered a welcome antidote to the sound-alike power pop that proliferated in the '90s. Joined by a drummer and string section, the Scottish duo mined many of the same influences (Beatles, Brian Wilson) as their competitors, yet offered melodies and hooks that were reverent but never rip-offs. Cherry Sky is a near-flawless concoction that follows Beach Boys-style choruses with a chorus straight out of the Fab's psychedelic era (complete with "Penny Lane" fire bells). The lovely "Sugar Mountain Babies," meanwhile, owes not a little to McCartney's gentle side, and the jangly "Banana Sandwich" has all the fresh-faced glory of Scottish popsters past, like Aztec Camera or the Bluebells. Other than a couple of lesser tracks, like "Night Breeze," the remainder of the disc is simply high-quality, handsomely performed, and hummable pop you'd be foolish to pass up.
During the always-nostalgic '90s, any number of musicians paid homage to some combination of the Beatles, the Beach Boys, and Burt Bacharach, trying to channel those influences into perfect pop that could actually stand alongside the work of their heroes. From the gruff Fab Four cops of Oasis to the acidic easy listening of the Divine Comedy to even the angelic, surf-kissed harmonies of R.E.M.'s Up, you could hardly open your ears without some reminder of the divine three B's. But no one, perhaps, has been able to invoke the entire trio as effectively as the Pearlfishers' David Scott does on Across the Milky Way, a gorgeous album good enough not to send you immediately scurrying to your record collection for a taste of the real thing. Songs like the pastoral title track, something Brian Wilson might have conjured up if he'd been born in Scotland instead of California, and "New Stars," three blissful minutes of everything that's great about jangle pop, are the real thing, in fact -- and that's just the first two cuts. With help from a string section, horns, a pair of drummers, and even a banjo player, Scott isn't limited in his influences. A true student of pop, he nods here to everything from the Brill Building to sentimental '70s AM radio fare. But he always returns to those often-elusive touchstones, with impeccable results. Wouldn't Bacharach himself want to claim the heart-tugging, flügelhorn-flecked instrumental "The Vampires of Camelon"? Wouldn't Mike Love and company have loved to tackle the soaring chorus of "Shine It Out"? And couldn't the gentle "Paint on a Smile" pass for a McCartney offering from a mid-period Moptops album? To some, that probably reads like sacrilege, especially given that Scott's lyrics, while often evocative and never dumb, aren't the equal of his music. Then again, that would be a tall order indeed -- and after all, the words of Scott's idols are usually remembered far less often than their hummable, loveable, damn near-inescapable tunes. If those are what you're looking for, then Across the Milky Way sounds like an outing for the ages.
