War is an insinuating potluck of indie-pop heroes, including Smithereens drummer Dennis Diken, High Llama Sean O'Hagen and Posie Ken Stringfellow. It's still McCaughey's show, though; most of the songs are his. Buck dusts off his twelve-string Rickenbacker and is instantly recognizable, and Steve Berlin's sax is distinct from The Young Fresh Fellows' gruffer approach, but the best songs from War and the Fellows' Because We Hate You aren't radically different from one another.
The doubling of McCaughey's efforts is a refreshingly honest gimmick. Either album on its own would have earned critical praise and the modest attention of the songwriter's core following. By marshaling his total recent output, he reminds passersby that he comes in two colors while coyly acknowledging his lack of market cachet. The only flaw -- and it's not a grave error -- is that the conflict between McCaughey's Kinks/Byrds ego and his Seattle postpunk id amounts to little more than a geeky bitch-slap. Hate is more cohesive, benefiting from a settled lineup and a meatier guitar sound. War is clever and catchy, another in The Minus 5's series of endearing out-of-time pastiches. But McCaughey's generosity threatens a zero-sum listening experience, a compromise between Paul Revere and the Raiders and the Zombies that comes out almost Monkees-like.
The solution is simple: By all means, buy the two discs, then play the one by the amalgam you already favor (if you know neither, start with The Minus 5), and put the other one away for six months. Just because a smart songwriter wants you to hear all his songs right away doesn't mean you have to.
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