Tennis: Young and Old

Rating: 3.25/5  

When it comes to cutesy husband-and-wife duos, there’s a thin line between endearingly twee and gag-inducing (see Mates of State). The average listener can only handle so much unbridled joy. Denver-based band Tennis, comprised of the hitched pair of Alaina Moore and Patrick Riley, managed to remain adorable (if somewhat one-note) throughout their 2011 debut Cape Dory, an LP that chronicled their honeymoon excursions on a sailboat. That’s a recipe for schmaltz if there ever was one, but they pulled it off through their genteel retro sound that may not have offered much in the way of sonic diversity but, in small enough doses, offered a sunny respite in the winter months following its release.

That’s not to say Tennis doesn’t pour the sugar on thick. Their sophomore effort Young and Old just dropped on Valentine’s Day after all, and even the band’s name is an inside joke from the couple’s college courtship. But with help from the Black Keys’ Patrick Carney (who produced the album) they’ve expanded from their lo-fi brand of surf-pop to craft a record that teases the future potential of the band more than actualizes that potential.

From the first notes, there’s a new car smell to Young and Old. “It All Feels the Same” opens the album with Riley’s gentle guitar strumming, a few organ chords and Moore’s lush, candy-coated vocals, but with a touch of grit amidst all the sweetness. That’s a pattern that continues throughout: a crunchy candy shell. “Origins” blends piano and synth with flourishes of surf guitar, which is not nearly as prominent as it was on Cape Dory. “Petition” pushes Moore’s luscious voice into its higher register, backed by repetitive keys and catchy work on the drum kit, and “Traveling” employs a fuzzy organ, a sound pulled from Carney’s repertoire and custom fit to Moore’s more melodious aesthetic. This duo of former philosophy majors plays clever from time to time, adding in a dash of relativism as Moore sings, “This must be rare/ ‘Cause nothing else could compare/ Not that I’m aware of.” But the album is counterbalanced with an equal measure of schlocky lines such as, “I’m dreaming I can still believe in you” from “Dreaming.” In the end it’s a wash; Moore’s voice plays a signature role in the band’s sound, but the lyrics are often beside the point.

Cape Dory proved these rising stars’ cred, but that breezy album was so light that it risked drifting away from our cultural consciousness before finding a suitable place to drop anchor. In contrast, with Patrick Carney on board – himself one half of a duo with the ability to turn everything they touch into gold records – Young and Old has some lasting power. Moore’s vocals, gorgeous as they were in the debut, are now more full-bodied and resonant, and the instrumentation on this sophomore effort casts a wider net.

As in relationships, monotony threatens to undermine Tennis’ bliss. Young and Old, like its predecessor, does tend to blend together, but with an increased production value it’s a more robust mix. Tennis keeps the ball within the lines, but with the aid of a seasoned vet they’ve put together a record that ups their game.