Despite what they say about not judging a book by its cover, or in this case, an artist by their name, I have to admit when I first heard of Kurt Vile, I, to put it politely, was not intrigued. His name, combined with the various angry, energetic pictures of him on stage I saw on indie music sites across the web, led me to believe that he would only be capable of the particular brand of loud, too-messy noise rock that, at the time, I was categorically opposed to. I was reasonably sure his music would never make his way into my music library, and I never thought I’d see the day I’d be writing a review on how much I dig the fellow and his wonderful musical stylings. Just wasn’t gonna happen.

Yet here we are, with Kurt’s new EP Square Shells, a silly grin on my face as I listen to the Philly-based singer-songwriter’s smooth, spacious and string-centric songs slip slowly and silkily from my speakers and into my now-so-receptive eardrums, liking his latest EP more with each repeated listen.

Here’s why.

First of all, he’s made a nearly seamless transition between his last album Childish Prodigy, and Square Shells in the sense that, unlike many other burgeoning indie superstars, he isn’t overextending himself, or trying to force uniqueness into his musicianship. He knows what he’s good at, and rather than screwing around for the past couple months trying to discover ‘the next big thing’ in music, he has sat, quietly and confidently polishing those skills to an eloquent, understated finish. This confidence is made abundantly clear on songs such as the opening track, “Ocean City.” Beginning with a twangy acoustic guitar, and Vile’s voice layered several times over, the song’s first level of appeal stems from the catchy cadence of the lyrics, as Vile sings about how “you’ve got a best friend / don’t know how / you’ve got a best friend now,” a phrase you’ll come to know very well over the next few days as you find yourself humming it under your breath as you’re buying food at the store, or flipping through a magazine at the doctor’s office. The song’s second, and really more important facet, is that despite its simplicity, with only a guitar, a voice, and some low-key shoegaze-esque humming beats, it manages to encapsulate most of Vile’s defining characteristics as an artist. You’ve got the acoustic singer-songwriter side, the psychedelic-pop side and most of all the side of him that can combine the two. It is, in fact, a microcosm for the album itself. Good, solid, simple songwriting with a comfortable, if not unique accompaniment.

Sadly however, every Goliath has his David, every Achilles his heel, and so too must Vile’s largely sterling EP have its flaws pointed out. The first of these is that while Square Shells is similar in tone to most of Childish Prodigy, there is a critical element missing in the construction of a Kurt Vile album in the classic sense. Where once Vile garnered comparisons to the late, great Jay Reatard, now he seems to have been tamed, and dwells only in the land of calm acoustic ramblings, paying no heed nor acknowledgment to his past of violent energy and enthusiasm. Where is the Kurt Vile we saw perform “Freak Train” live at SXSW? Where is the Kurt Vile with whom the Violators played their angriest shows?

At the end of the day, Square Shells is pretty good. It’s a continuation of what is personally my favorite aspect of Vile’s music, a great, mostly acoustic, addition to his already formidable line of releases. But it’s just not…all the way there. You’ll like it, you may even love it, but Square Shells isn’t an album to frame on the mantle. Listen to it, like it, leave it at that.

Track List:
1. Ocean City
2. Invisibility: Nonexistent
3. Losing Momentum (For Jim Jarmusch)
4. I Wanted Everything
5. I Know I Got Religion
6. The Finder
7. Hey, Now I”m Movin