Sean Watkins: Blinders On ... or Are They?

Sean Watkins
Blinders On
Sugar Hill

The first seconds of "Blinders On" greets you with a rather Radiohead-ish noodly electronic thingy, and you know right off the bat this ain't a Nickel Creek album.

The third solo outing from Nickel Creek guitarist Sean Watkins comes off as an exploration of melody, vocals and the merger between the acoustic and the electric more than a showcase for Watkins' guitar chops. The melodies are adventurous and tasty, with lots of electronic accents thrown in for spice (but not too much -- you can put down your glow stick), but those looking for some new heights in guitar playing might be disappointed. Me, I'm a sucker for melody, and "Blinders On" offered a lot to keep me interested.

There are lots of delightful songs here about crushes, but that theme is approached from angles more mature than you might be expecting. "I'm Sorry," for example, deals with turning on a crush who plays too hard to get. And one of my favorite songs on the album, "Run Away Girl," addresses the anguish of a crush that's dangerous. But it's not all pain and hand-wringing -- another of my favorites here, "Hello ... Goodbye" is a 70-second long delineation of the process of falling in love with someone you've just met ... and will never see again. In this case, Watkins sees his whole life flash by in a brief conversation with a girl after a concert: "She didn't know/that we got married in my head/there were Christmases and dogs/and our kids' hair was red." It's a cute little ditty that perfectly captures the thrill of the sudden crush. That's good stuff.

Another thread running through some of the songs is being trapped in too small a space, whether that space is your own head or a town where you have too much history. None of this is rocket science, folks, but we've all visited Crushville, and we've all found the place we're at (yeah, I know there shouldn't be a preposition there, shut it.) just too damn small. And that's Watkins' gift, I think. He sings and writes for the Everyman. The twenty-something Everyman, that is. The Everydude.

If you're looking for a Nickel Creek album, buy "Why Should the Fire Die." And if you're looking for Nickel Creek, but with a little more drama and dark side, check out Chris Thile. But if you want a soundtrack for mulling everyday frustrations, the thrill of crushery and the agony of repeat, "Blinders On" might just open your eyes.