he Columbus, Ohio skyline was barely recognizable from the pattern of red, green, blue, and yellow plastic hand-size pegs balanced precariously in the holes of the giant art-installation Lite-Brite. As the night wore on, the pattern slowly dissolved, as the 18+ crowd of former-punks indulged in their lost-childhood fantasies, and transferred peg after peg from one aperture to another. Perhaps, some group-subconscious wished to rearrange the lights into the visage of some greater metropolis, one where bands like the one they were here to see were the rule, not the exception.


The reds, yellows, greens and blues coupled with the stage lights washed the lead singer in a deep sea hue as he twisted knobs, flipped switches, pulled and replaced cables on the broken mixer, in a futile effort to coax something – anything -- out of the broken PA that had worked so well until their penultimate song when faulty circuits decided to intervene. After several minutes, the feat was determined impossible, and the band would finish their set, sans vocal amplification.


Tiara counted off and kicked into their closer, “Waiting on Blue Skies,” a midtempo piece with one guitar heavily distorted and hammering out deliberate minor chords, spliced with the occasional 7th, and the second making imaginative use of the wah pedal, drawing the effect out over long phrases, rather than sinking to the rapid-fire attack of video-game funk. The deluge let up for a moment during the first verse before bursting into the chorus on the intro riff. The lead singer/rhythm guitarist tossed his mic stand aside and tilted his head towards the ceiling to belt out his lyrics through the building storm. Though mostly lost, certain stray syllables cut their way through torrent to reach the audience. The few that did gave no clues to the content of the dull murmur barely audible beneath the flood of guitars and cymbals, but the perceivable words were inflicted with such emotion that the audience couldn’t help leaning forward to hear the inaudible.


The song ended, and one by one we filed out, empty-handed aside from the flyers for future shows being distributed at the door. Tiara sold no merchandise that night, but it didn’t matter, all but two of the songs they had played were new, committed to mind and memory, but not to tape. Nearly a full year later, I picked up their new album Titletron, the soundtrack to that show.


From the start, everything seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite determine why. Was it that the infectious melodies were imprinted in my mind, like the shadowy solar amoeba left on the inside of my eyelids when I stare too long at the sun? Or was it that Tiara were gifted with such supreme pop sensibilities that they could craft a song that, while wholly original, would recall the best hooks of the past 50 years?


Regardless, Titletron is a solid collection of indie-pop gems. It begins with a minute long sound collage -- which is neither particularly interesting nor particularly grating – followed by one of the best songs on the album, “Wish You Away.” Layered pseudo-Caribbean rhythms and a half speed surf solo (‘verbed, fuzzed) set the mood for the album -- happily lazy, but with a steady undercurrent of subdued melancholy. As with many songs on the album, “Wish You Away” builds slowly to a climax. Dense guitars, keyboards, and occasional handclasps and miscellaneous noise add to the controlled maelstrom. “The New Hero” passes uneventfully, save for a few keyboard lines mixed a decibel too low to be distracting, showing thoughtful restraint on the part of band-turned-producers.


“The 1900’s” opens with a catchy slide guitar line, showcasing (but not showing off) a instrument that’s far too rare in this genre. The song settles into a nice lemonade groove before dissolving into heatstroke Sunday apathy that sounds (I imagine) like a Neil Young 45 at 33.


“Velveteen Rabbit” features more low-mixed fuzzed-out surf guitar, and an eventual indie/emo textbook dynamic build (a trick that, no matter how overused, still manages to impress me). “Grandpa Turns to Trains” features a catchy melody, and a “Creep” meets “The Air That I Breathe” verse. The lyrics are simple (“you’re the saddest man in the world / you never blamed anyone / now that she’s really gone / you crippled your heart forever”) but speak volumes to anyone who’s seen an aging relative deal with the death of a loved one.


“Get Some Sleep” begins with delay pedal tomfoolery that, while impressive live, doesn’t really come across on record. A lone guitar and slightly echoed vocal lead to the first verse, drums and bass kick in at the perfect place, and a deliciously simple ascending guitar line propels the song to the unfortunate chorus, which seems lifted from an entirely different song. Oddly, the chorus vocals are distorted and mixed low, a mixing misstep that Tiara makes a few times on the album -- vocals run through effects for no reason whatsoever.


“Nowhere Slow” delicately places nervous, too-quiet vocals on a quasi-reggae groove to beautiful effect. Reverb-drenched guitars, lightly harmonized vocals and a propulsive bass line make this song one of the best on the album, but it runs out of steam shortly after a distant piano breakdown, reprising the first few minutes without any real change.


Unfortunately, even the best moments of this album fall far short of Tiara’s stunning live show, and their near-lush, meandering studio recordings are never as interesting or awe-inspiring as the spectacle of seeing Tiara live, amplified or not.