Drug Rug

Like most young couples, Tommy Allen and Sarah Cronin are completely wrapped up in themselves, and as with many in the early flush of romance, want to shout their love to the world. Thus was born Drug Rug and this, the duo's debut, eponymous album. As you would expect, it's a totally self-indulgent set, which wouldn't be a bad thing if it was Allen alone doing the indulging, as he's obviously the more sensible half of this pair. Cronin, however, is so over the top in places, one suspects Allen is totally deafened by love. Think John & Yoko, even if the pair probably see themselves as Sonny & Cher. "For the Rest of Your Life," which opens the set, features Cronin badly belting out a ballad in what one presumes is meant to be a parody of Dolly Parton, while the backing band do an impression of the Rolling Stones in their country phase. "Lie Lie Lie" is even worse, Allen inevitably found it adorable in its cutesiness, but will anyone else? This is where a producer normally steps in and puts a foot down, but when the producers are your friends, they'll let you get away with murdering your music. Which is a shame, because there are actually a great many good ideas here. The fingerpickin' good "Wintertime," for instance, has the infectiousness of Mungo Jerry's "Summertime" and all the charm of a hot cocoa on a cold day. "Cut the Meat" has clever lyrics and some fiery blues guitars, "Day I Die" a splendid psychedelic swirl, "Tiny People" perfect chiming chords à la the Byrds, and "Walden" a rollicking R&B feel. The lo-fi production doesn't help, but doesn't overly harm, either, and if only Cronin could be reined in, Drug Rug could mesmerize the masses. Until then, only her friends, family and Allen will wholeheartedly applaud this set.