On Album the superb 2009 debut from San Francisco’s Girls, singer/songwriter Christopher Owens displayed a collection of throwbacks to the get-up-and-go rock ‘n roll vibe of Buddy Holly and Elvis Costello but with a distinct narrative capacity.

Holly’s biggest contribution to modern-day society is his trademark rimmed glasses (e.g. this writer). But, Owens capitalized on his keen sense for hooks and melody, catapulting Girls to the front of the nostalgic-indie-rock pack onslaught that’s occurred recently.

The 32-year-old Owens is a former member of the troublesome Children of God religious cult, which stemmed out of the hippie movement in the 60’s, and his story has become somewhat of folklore in the music world. His mother (whose troubled relationship with Owens frequently is a focal point in the lyrical content) strictly adhered to CoG’s anti-medicine stance and allowed his brother to die from pneumonia. Owens eventually broke away and was taken in by bizarre Texas artist Stanley Marsh 3. Girl’s outstanding sophomore release Father, Son, Holy Ghost gracefully divulges issues of Owens self-destructing habits and difficulty of handling his previous life experiences.

Where Girls contemporaries like Male Bonding, Pains of Being Pure at Heart and Smith Westerns fall short of innovating out of their yesteryear inspirations, Owens and co. inject astonishing amounts of life and personality in their songs.

Opener ‘Honey Bunny’ skips along to a rolling drum beat and immediately displays the biggest contrast to Album. While Owens voice previously sneered with a sinus-infected delivery, the vocals on Father appear more confident and bright with a smooth whisper that spookily resembles Elliott Smith. The innocent vitality displayed on every aspect of the recording juxtaposes Owens astute awareness of life’s devastating potential.

Father’s extremely capable instrumentation is fitting for the lyrics, which while seeming a bit oversimplified, manage to unveil the desire of Owens attempt to answer the harrowing questions most people have to address in their life. “How can I say I want you, now that you’ve said I want you? Now that you’ve said everything I said to you, to somebody new?” he sings on appropriately titled ‘Saying I Love You.’ Toward the song’s conclusion he paints the familiar, ex-lover coming back and upset over a breakup, picture asking “I hear you crying, what can I do? You threw my heart away. You made me blue” But, with the difficulty of lingering attachment and uncertainty of how to deal with the scenario, puts his figurative foot down and sings, “You threw my heart away, you made me blue.” The situation is commonplace in at least one person’s conversation on a daily basis, but Owens gives an immense sense of comfort to those reeling from similar hardship over a fundamental light-rock arrangement à la The Beach Boys.

The eclectic genre palette is followed up two songs later on the most abrasive cut of the album ‘Vomit,’ a six and a half minute roller coaster. The initial minimal guitar work and whispered vocals are followed by an outburst of noisy guitar work and an organ filling out the driving rhythm section. Owens repeats the lines “Nights I spend alone, I spend ‘em looking for you baby. Looking for love,” through the majority of the song before the threshold bursts at the tail end with professional gospel singers, the organ taking off for a solo and Owens vocals moving to the back of the mix accumulating to the climax of the album. It’s hands down the most enjoyable section of Girl’s impressive catalog in their brief existence.

While there’s a contaminated influx of retro-vibes in alternative music and Girls may come off as nothing new, the record is a refreshing and unique take on what’s been done and manages to confidently stand on its own two feet – something Owens himself should take note of.