Dominant Legs: Young at Love and Life

Dominant Legs

Label: Lefse

When I think of the Bay Area, once home to one of the few music scenes that mattered – the San Francisco Sound, defined by the Dead and championed by the Airplane – I now think of … hand drums. Lots and lots of hand drums, pounded on by Haight-Ashbury hippies and jam bands pining for the days of Anthem of the Sun. Sure, there have been exceptions throughout the years – early Counting Crows, Deerhoof, Make a Mess – but these only prove the rule that even the most viable stereotypes have their limits. There’s no need to wear some flowers in your hair if you’re going to San Francisco these days; just bring along your bongos and congas (a Hacky Sack won’t hurt, either) and you’ll fit right in.

Enter Ryan Lynch and Hannah Hunt, aka Dominant Legs, the latest, fair-faced North Cali duo trying to rise above the ranks in a cluttered indie landscape. To their credit, on four-song debut EP Young at Love and Life, they hardly resort to that hackneyed San Francisco mistreat, the army of hand drummers, relying instead on a healthy sampling of retro synthesizers, quasi-catchy key strokes and youthful yelping reminiscent (at best) of Orange Juice or Morrissey rather than the deluge of Deadheads synonymous with the City by the Bay.

“I know that it’s just a joke/ But I don’t really mind/ We like to pretend all right/ That we cannot deny/ We’re still young at love and life,” Lynch offers on the opening title track. He and Hunt may also be young at music, but that doesn’t mean the duo hasn’t done their synthpop, Reagan-era homework, as they channel a musical epoch that went out of style with break dancing, boom boxes and glitter gloves. Love it, hate it, or shrug it off, this meager offering takes the listener back to the video arcades and skating rinks of that decadent, cheese-pop, Debbie Gibson and Thriller-riddled decade that seems to rear its big-hair-bowed head back into our musical lives every time we think it’s finally been laid to rest.

But it’s in this retro-homesick approach that the EP begins to falter. Lynch and Hunt aren’t just late to the party; the hosts don’t even live in the house anymore. Although there are some moments that suggest the twosome may evolve into something akin to the pick of the Left Coast litter – the catchy hook of “Young at Love and Life,” the way Hunt’s tender background cooing on “Clawing Out at the Walls” complements Lynch’s syrupy vocals and soulful, emotionally-delayed lyrical persona – but this is a record that’s far more echoing than pioneering. Unfortunately, what it echoes is a clichéd sound that should have died with Spandex, scrunch socks and the disbanding of the Culture Club. At least Lynch and Hunt left their hand drums at home; it’s just that what they brought to the party makes me want to bust out the old bongos instead.

by Marcus David

Key Tracks: Young at Love and Life