It’s as true today as it was 70 years ago: the best tips about new music often come by word of mouth. A few weeks ago I’d never heard of The Damnwells, and now I’m a fan. (Thanks, Pete Mancini!)
After several indie EPs, the Brooklyn, New York quartet of Alex Dezen (vocals, guitar, keys), David Chernis (guitar, keys), Ted Hudson (bass) and Steven Terry (drums) issued their official debut in 2003 on Epic. Bastards Of The Beat was warmly reviewed but failed to chart, and Epic dropped them. Undeterred, The Damnwells resurfaced on Rounder for Air Stereo in 2006. When the latter didn’t make headway, though, the band went on hiatus while frontman/songwriter Dezen enrolled in the MFA program at the University of Iowa.
Like a phoenix, though, The Damnwells just kept coming back around. First Dezen recruited a fresh lineup for One Last Century (2009, digital-only), then Hudson rejoined in time for 2011’s sarcastically titled No One Listens To The Band Anymore (funded via PledgeMusic). Finally, the complete founding lineup reunited in 2015 for the fresh-start self-titled The Damnwells. Nine years later, they returned yet again with last year’s Bad At Beautiful, my admittedly decades-late entry point for the band.
Dezen’s appealingly vulnerable lead vocals remind at times of both fellow power-pop aficionado Chris Collingwood (Fountains Of Wayne) and the inimitable Jeff Tweedy (Wilco), and like both, his songs are consistently elevated by the heart and craft the band behind him pours into bringing them to life.
Opener and lead single “Without A Heart” offers pleasantly jangly guitar over a steady mid-tempo groove, with both the guitars and Dezen’s earnest vocals blooming at the driving choruses. More of all of the above is on offer on the Gin Blossoms-adjacent, sad-eyed guitars-and-harmonies number “Falling Out Of Love.”
The billowing, melancholy “What If I Talked?” bats third for a reason; it’s precisely where I knew I was onto something special. “What if I talked / And said the things I want to say / What if I stopped being so afraid?” goes the chiming, tumbling, resonant refrain of this anthem for the reticent (been there, held back). In the cleanup spot, “Pretty As Pittsburgh” clears the bases, a witty Pennsylvania-centric story song with bold, appealing dynamics.
“All For The Taking” has an engaging push and pull, revving up for choruses featuring a clever, catchy wordless vocal hook. A similar tide-out, tide-in feel engages on “It’s Not You,” whose down-on-myself lyric is matched with a big hooky chorus in prototypical power-pop style. In between, “Easy, Tiger” offers a genuinely playful mid-tempo, country-inflected number featuring guest Morgan Wade on co-lead vocals.
The album’s energy dips a bit for “One Way”—a mostly acoustic ballad about standing by a lover, featuring steel guitar on the bridge, and “Super Expensive Fear,” whose loping cadence and airy choruses frame a lyric that sounds like it might have been written around its unusual title.
Penultimate track “Shepherd Of 12th Avenue” picks up the tempo and the Fountains Of Wayne comparisons as Dezen namechecks NYC locations and characteristics—not to mention the D train—through an extended story-song overflowing with rich little details and acoustic rhythm guitar that pushes and pushes.
The closing title track earns that notoriety with one of Dezen’s finest lyrics. Opening with just acoustic and voice, it builds slowly but steadily, adding fresh textures up to and including guest Aaron Lee Tasjan’s harmonies on the chorus. If I hadn’t already been sold, this quatrain would have done it: “No, I’ve never been to heaven / But I’ve been ten feet up off of Beale / Maybe we can sing along / Maybe that’s the whole damn deal.” As much as I love the “Walking In Memphis” reference, I love the sentiment even more: music as a healing force, music as a form of community.
Bad At Beautiful is the work of four men who’ve gone through a lot to get here, and it shows in both the melancholy ribboned through these warmly-rendered songs and the supple power with which this band delivers them. It’s 2025 and The Damnwells are still with us; for that we should all be grateful.