When asked about their most recent release, “Bad Day at Work,” Bent Rod member John Black hinted at fears that the album was too mainstream.  And it is more mainstream, in a way.  But their new album is an educator of the mainstream, not a mere inhabitant of the realm of stagnant and predictable music.  With “Bad Day at Work” Bent Rod shows what can be accomplished in the mainstream format of verse and chorus repetition, and what orchestral sound, effervescent vocals, and dazzling lyrics deserve to amount to.  They stand at the front of the class, patiently demonstrating that while there is no formula for greatness, there certainly are those destined for it.  As for the rest of the music world, well, everyone else should just be taking notes.

The album launches forward with a surge of sound that quickly assembles itself into the catchy and upbeat ballad “Bend It Like Becky.”  One can sense their raw energy, distilled and condensed into a plainspoken brilliance that offers up such poignant and quirky lines as “we’ll rub your back if you make us a s’more.”  The song is a celebration, and as they save Becky we know it won’t be long before these supple melodies save us.

From there they move into the realm of satire, a Bent Rod backbone, turning their keen eyes and minds upon the long overdue Swedes with “(sex) And Salad.”  They deconstruct the Swedes’ way of life without ever sounding mean-spirited, jealous, or preachy.  The song is held aloft by slippery-smooth choral alliterations and remarkable tangents (the ethereal howling of “metal” comes to mind).

The album’s title track “Bad Day at Work” seems effortlessly, almost unfairly harmonious.  Linaburg belts out the chorus with unparalleled authenticity and the music matches every step, like two lovers dancing.  This song, like many on the album, highlights the maturation of Bent Rod’s vocal talents.  It begs the question - how can a song about something so dirty have vocals this clean?

            “Tales Of The Orient, Episode 1” bounces back into a foot-tapping and spunky tune.  Black’s vocals parlay the grittiness of a Tom Waits or young Springsteen, while never losing the song’s upbeat atmosphere. The classic Nag Champa makes a return here, but the real stars of the song are the scat sections forming a vigorous chorus of their own.

“Turtle Puddle” is a diabolically clever song with a dizzying pace.  Their satire shifts to the other side of Europe and Linaburg rips through English slang like some maestro’s stream of consciousness.  Off-topic deadpan phrases merge with staccato clips repeated and rearranged, and Linaburg never seems at a loss for words.  In the face of lines like “I need more phrases, bee’s knees won’t save us,” supposed wordplay aficionados like Jason Mraz should admit defeat and slink out of the spotlight.

“Oh, To Be A Homeowner” illustrates that Bent Rod is a duo in all senses of the word, with Black shattering the vocal heights set by “Bad Day At Work.”  Aided by Linaburg’s absolutely thundering percussion, he pines eloquently for a state of life that rarely sees musical adoration.  The result is a haunting ode that is simple, brief, gentle, and earnest.  

"Live From St. Louis With Peter Rutherford” is the albums comedic peak, showing that they have not forgotten their more playful roots.  Spoofing crooners of the past, Black offers up a monologue funnier than anything Garrison Keillor could dream up.  Bursts of “trumpet” segment his speech, each more hilariously grating than the last.  In particular, the section regarding “the bearded smile and the bearded laugh” and the final trumpet send-out to your mother are so uproarious that they should not be listened to while operating a motor vehicle or by anyone with a heart condition.

            Again Bent Rod ventures off the beaten path, this time both musically and geographically, with “Say Hi To The Gypsies.”  One-upping such past successes as “Give Peace A Chance,” “All You Need Is Love,” and “Joy To The World,” Bent Rod expounds humanistic overtones while always appearing genuine.  Enhancing upon their past lyrical tricks such as “cool/it/burns,” they skillfully morph “genuine” into “Jenny’s wine.”  Ultimately, their advice is nothing bombastic or immense, a simple hello will do. 

            In the evocative “Reptiles With Lonely Hearts,” Bent Rod borrows from classic rock but makes it their own with unforgettable pacing and control.    The phrase “owner of her lonely heart” floats from the speakers intermittently, emerging from long stretches of heartrending melodies like a whale breaching the surface of the turbulent sea - it comes and goes so fast you wonder if it was ever there.  Its beautiful irreverence mimics the album’s clip of a track “Blue-Tailed Swallow.”

            The album’s final track reprises the homeowner theme with the crafty title “Back To The Roots – Sure, LeVar Burton.”  The song peacefully wanders through falsetto and strained monologue, idle philosophies and Beatles-like absurdities, desires and burdens.  The protagonist seems to be drowning in the layers and complexities of his life, but it ends with Bent Rod’s response to a world of maturity and unfulfilled needs – write a song. 

            Age has been good to Bent Rod.  Their voices amaze you.  Their melodies excite you.  Their lyrics are an epiphany.  Bent Rod has become smoother, gentler, even more polite (the album is rife with thank you’s).  They can still rock your world and invert the music industry as easy as you can press play, but their maturity and especially their control now assures them of absolute permanence – that sometimes the brightest stars can still burn the longest.   The old Bent Rod would knock down your door and barrel into your house, forcing its way into every corner of your home and mind.  The new Bent Rod is classier, more disciplined.  It takes you out to a nice dinner, pays for the lobster, holds the door and gentlemanly kisses your hand.  And then, when it asks to come in, you can only say yes.