Battery Park

An indie-rock-scarred hipster's first reaction to this disc might be one of disgust. Clean, processed guitars? A singer in tune? Swelling anthems that would sound at home on an SUV commercial? Yes, all of this -- and not an ironically dissonant note in sight. Battery Park's music falls somewhere between every mainstream band you've been conditioned to loathe: Pearl Jam, Dave Matthews Band, Ben Harper. Dig a little deeper, though, and it becomes apparent that not only are these guys sincere, but they actually know what they're doing. Tastefully arranged keyboards and percussion augment the typical guitar/ bass/drums format, and the tunes build up, climax and resolve like, well, like songs are supposed to. Perhaps that's the point: Rather than concepts or postures, Battery Park plays songs, maybe even better than most of their radio-worn influences do. If this sounds up your alley, by all means, rush right out and buy Scattered Pictures. (Better yet, see the band when it appears Friday, December 6, at the Soiled Dove.) If you're too cool for mainstream rock, make it a guilty pleasure.

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