Adam Green occupies the same crossover niche of Conor Oberst and Andrew Bird – that being sulky, good-looking young men who prefer to keep their guitars un-electrified. However he’s always been more exploratory, and decidedly less poppy, than his peers. Minor Love is, in a lot of ways, his career culmination – even more so than his stint in the oft-adored, oft-maligned Moldy Peaches.
Green is still playing sad-bastard folk music of course, but it’s his brand of sad-bastard folk music. Deliberate, frank, barely two minutes, the songs are about the primary colors of lost love and something as slight as finding a store that will sell cigarettes underage. The closest comparisons are no longer the relatively ‘safe’ melancholy of Belle & Sebastian or Eels, they’re The Mountain Goats, Mount Eerie and Bill Callahan – all artists that unequivocally own their sound – and that speaks for Adam’s growth as a whole. He’s still funny, he’s still hip, he still makes all the Apple Store rats swoon (hell he even namedrops Mr. Gatsby on centerpiece “Stadium Soil,”) but he’s, perhaps for the first time, appealing to jaded, heard-it-all-before music elitists too. Minor Love is the rare record that has something for everyone, your dad, your discontent pop-isolationist, that mix you’ve been meaning to make, and a long drive across desert highway – and ends up being an impressive testament to Adam Green’s lasting relevance.