Ted Leo has been fronting one band or another for longer than some of his young fans have been alive. Prior to the indie-fave success of the Pharmacists his most notable endeavor came in the early through mid 90s with a Chisel, a band that hearkened back to the classic Brit sound of bands such as Kinks, the who as well as the Clash. Following the critical success of their sophomore release Set You Free, the band soon broke up. Ted went solo for a time and eventually surrounded himself with something of a New York underground all-star band, some of whom have stayed with him now in this not quite so loose confederation called The Pharmacists.

In 1991 they released The Tyranny of Distance which was a tough as nails punky affair that found a faithful Indie audience and it's way onto a number of critics best-of lists that year. Hearts of Oak is not an easy album to describe, I really like it, but there's so much a diversity of style and production quality that I can't say that I'd feel totally safe recommending to the general populace. There are elements of Irish folk (think Waterboys, Dexy ...) a bit of the two-tone Mod sound (the Specials) New Wave (Elvis Costello) Power Pop (think early Replacements fronted by Robert Smith instead of Paul Westerberg). Ted Leo sings these often challenging, though doubtless fascinating songs with the whimsical confidence of someone who enjoys the smell of their own farts and would be damned surprised to learn that someone else disagreed. In that sense he reminds me of the Libertines and Hot Hot Heat a bit.

This is an album that takes a few spins to get into, it's certainly a lo-fi experience in true Indie form and, in part because of this, it takes a few listens before you recognize and understand the hooks. Track 6 "The Ballad of the Sin Father" with it's tale of the almighty power of pain medication certainly seems to be an homage to Lou Reed and the Velvets. And I must say Ted lays down some of some of the most tasty and ambitious guitar playing I've heard in a while - akin to Tom Verlaine and Richard Lloyd of Television. This album comes on slowly and sometimes unpleasantly like Peyote, but once your in, it's a magical world full of plenty of wondrous textures, metamorphosing styles, guitar riffs and chorus hooks that start to come out of the woodwork at an alarming rate once you're dialed into the right prescription.