In the eternal search for new music, I witness a lot of future superstars emerge out of the woodwork. At the same time, I discover a lot of bands that make me instinctively think “Wow, these guys have what it takes,” yet find out in a not-so-abrupt fashion that their destiny didn’t turn out to be as glorious as my gut predicted. Milo Greene is a fantastic example of such an initially hopeful future disappointment. Their stellar self-titled debut album may have only peaked at 115 on the US Billboard 200, but reached #1 on the US Billboard Heatseekers Albums, a chart using an alternate approach to evaluating new releases based on sales from bands with no prior historical chart performance. Their sophomore album “Control” did not receive as rave reviews, failing to chart on any major accredited lists and straying from their initially cinematic folky indie pop mantra. A personal friend working in the record industry even told me that he would frequently run into Milo Greene’s managing representative from Atlantic records and it became a running joke that Milo Greene were impossible to book because they rarely sold out the venues they played in.
All negative reviews aside, “1957” still represents a captivating example of Milo Greene’s potential essence of entertainment. With repeated high hat and rapid rim shot defined percussion, simple guitar picking modulations, and a group of 3 lead singers that sound like one immaculately gifted super-vocalist, “1957” represents all that was promising and exciting with Milo Greene. The Los Angeles-based band resembles shades of Fleetwood Mac but with slightly more depressing undertones, as reflected by lyrics suggesting one or several of the band members being scarred by lost relationships of the past. I can’t help but revel in the expertly directed writing and cinematography displayed with 1957’s music video as well, which displays a similar theme of lost loves. The main character follows around a uniquely captivating woman who suddenly disappears at the conclusion of the video as he yells aimlessly across the lake and into the surrounding woodland. What he’s actually lost as signified by the continual reintroduction of the typewriter is the girl he’s writing about, though whether he’s either thinking of a girl he once knew or creating a fictitious representation of everything he’s ever wanted is left unsolved.