Praise to us. Praise to everyone. Just not a tremendous amount of praise to their album, which is cute enough in its childish hipster way but ultimately ineffective.
The problem is more musical than thematic; in fact, I like their lyrics – they’re feverish and too abstract to ever seem preachy. But their devotion does seem to have infected their music with an unending sweetness. Their songs are little trinkets, each with one-word names: “Elephant,” “Glue,” “Trampoline.” Lead singer Michael Nau sings like a slightly more professional Daniel Johnston, reedy and innocent, and the production is that twinkling style for which Jon Brion will someday take either credit or blame.
Two or three years ago I might have called it quirky and refreshing, but it’s getting awfully familiar. Although the songs work occasionally – “Glue” makes affecting use of the frailty of Nau’s voice, and “Bush,” in its forlorn way, is endearing – most of it sounds like an ice cream truck endlessly circling your house. (Jesus is coming and he has Nutty Buddys!)
From a sociological perspective, it is fascinating that there’s now a Christian rock band that sounds like something off of the Garden State soundtrack, but from a musical one, Hello, Dear Wind is just another fairly good but not particularly striking indie pop record.
– Tom Vale
Page France (Suicide Squeeze)