Graham Parker
w/Mike Gent
(of the Figgs)
Thurs Aug 4, Tractor, 8 pm, $20 adv/$22 DOS, 21+.

A POP ACT is only as good as their last record. Graham Parker gives a knowing wink to that fact by naming his latest Songs of No Consequence. It points out the ephemeral nature of the genre, which, for all its flashes of emotional resonance, involves plenty of planned obsolescence. (It also suggests a playful dig at high-minded artists like Brian Eno and Yoko Ono; it's easy to imagine either unveiling a project entitled Music to Forget or Piece to Not Play.)

Despite having enjoyed more critical than chart success, British expat Parker has forged a respectable career for 30 years. Having emerged from the keep-'em-entertained pub rock circuit of the '70s, he has delivered over 20 albums that consistently display a shrewd understanding of how to write a ditty with legs. Step one: melodic hooks, and driving rhythms, to grab the listener's attention. Step two: lyrics that keep them coming back, even after the initial lure of step one has waned.

Parker's previous album, his 2004 offering Your Country, caught some fans off guard, because he dared to tinker with those basics. The words were still incisive, but the music, with its integration of steel guitars and gentler tempos, diffused his characteristic immediacy. Which is why ...No Consequence feels like such a kick in the trousers. From the loping reggae groove that gooses the bubbling malevolence of "Evil," to the pedal-to-the-metal rush of "Small Town Boys" (the black-sheep cousin of John Mellencamp's "Jack and Diane"), Parker's biting wordplay and adenoidal delivery are once again carried along by smart, edgy pop-rock.

By all rights, Parker—who can legitimately claim artists such as Elvis Costello and John Hiatt as his peers—should be bigger. But that's another one of pop's ephemeral qualities: sometimes its best practitioners get overlooked. Fortunately, this hasn't discouraged Parker. He has retained his sense of humor, wisely tempering the didacticism of cuts like "There's Nothing on the Radio" and "Did Everybody Just Get Old?" with lashings of self-deprecation. Better still, he remembers how to make the formulas work in his favor, regardless of the commercial outcome.