Free Energy : Stuck on Nothing :: Review
Hailing from the city of brotherly love, Philadelphia’s Free Energy seems like a band from another time. Free Energy effortlessly channels the AM sounds of the Super 70’s and the early 80’s American Top 40 on their debut, “Stuck on Nothing” and prove they could have been on the Caddyshack soundtrack or fought for chart dominance against Loggins and Messina. Whether you consider that a good thing or not, there’s no denying that a hearty dose of the power pop from Cheap Trick, Eric Carmen, Steve Miller and the aforementioned Loggins and his cohort Messina hugely influenced songwriter Paul Spranger when developing the tunes that comprise “Stuck on Nothing.”
From the opening cowbell intro to the Rick Nielsenesque riffed “Free Energy,” it appears that you’re going to experience a flashback of epic proportions. Break out the feathering mousse and cut off shorts because that would be the only appropriate gear to appreciate this song which should be blasting out Camaro windows all spring long. If that’s not enough for you, the roller-rink hand clapped anthem, “Dream City” should get your significant other in the mood to hold your hand as you go around the world. The overly saccharine taste of “Bang Pop” is the first moment where Free Energy falters and this is where you start to notice the limitations of a band that has placed it’s entire identity in something so vapid. Flaccid guitars and little variety seem to be the problem on “Stuck on Nothing” as the band attempts to echo the summery vibe of the opening track “Free Energy” and instead come across as a mere throwback or novelty act.
The Steve Miller space fantasy inspired licks kick off “All I Know” which manages to excessively rip off “I Am The Walrus.” The Beatles knock off is so blatant that I patiently waited for Spranger and Co. to sing “Coo Coo Kachew” during the melody. “Dark Trance” sounds like a slowed down version of “Bang Pop” and as I listen, I’m beginning to wonder how many chord progressions that guitarist Scott Wells actually knows. From the middle of the album to the climax there’s a level of sameness to these songs, which makes them instantly forgettable. The sameness is apparent in the melody of the remaining songs, which seem like they’re watered down versions of the first four tracks, which were at least somewhat interesting. The album closes with “Wild Wind,” a redemptive number similar to one of Badfinger’s ballads, but one that comes too late for me to offer any apologies for negativism. Had the variety been a little more evident on “Stuck On Nothing,” I would have stuck around.
Rating: 
