By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
By Alice Laussade
By Scott Reitz
For one thing? The moniker is horrible. You can name yourself after a town or a continent—say, Boston or Chicago or Europe—but you can't name yourself after a city with the word "City" in the title. That's why there are no bands named "New York City" or "Oklahoma City." The fact that it's a pretend city makes it worse.
Young told our sister paper in Minneapolis, City Pages, that he took the name from a "wee incident" in Scotland while visiting his grandmother in Edinburgh in the mid-'90s. He was "waltzing scot-free through the lovely Scottish foothills" when he found himself in a forest full of owls. "Big owls, small owls, fat owls, skinny owls, tall owls, short owls, smart owls, dumb owls, tough owls, sissy owls, owls who climb on rocks...you name it."
2200 N. Lamar St.
Dallas, TX 75202
Category: Music Venues
Region: Downtown & Deep Ellum
He neglects to say exactly how this caused him to call his group Owl City but, frankly, I don't want to know, because listening to him explain anything is a dispiriting exercise.
Plenty of fellow musicians probably dislike Owl City because his rise has been so rapid. Young initiated the project less than three years ago, quickly became a MySpace sensation and signed with Universal earlier this year. The digital release of his debut, Ocean Eyes, in July achieved iTunes domination by moving hundreds and hundreds of thousands of downloads—and the album's physical release cracked Billboard's top 30, with plenty of staying power to boot. And while it might be easy to hate on a kid who sells out shows around the country without having paid any dues, even that is not the main reason to dislike Owl City.
No, the main reason to dislike Owl City is because it is a Postal Service rip-off, lock, stock and smoking pole. Young has obviously spent plenty of time listening to Ben Gibbard's mopey, existential lyrics and Jimmy Tamborello's soaring laptop jams. As such, Ocean Eyes is a poor facsimile of the duo's 2003 album Give Up. It's the Mac and Me to their E.T., the Dr Thunder to their Dr Pepper. One could spend hours quoting the maddeningly inane, Gibbard-aping lyrics Young has fashioned, but for now let's settle for this: "If you're the bird, whenever we pretend it's summer, then I'm the worm/I know the part, it's such a bummer but fair is fair/If my segments get separated, I'll scream and you'll be there."
In Young's defense, he's not the first musical act to gain popularity by riding another's coattails. In fact, many rip-offs have even eventually, um, wormed their way into the public's heart. Here are the best of them. Perhaps, like these groups, Owl City, too, will one day not make us want to reside in a cave in Tajikistan.Whitesnake: Many have aped Led Zeppelin, but only Whitesnake caused us to squint and speculate that, just for a moment, perhaps it was Robert Plant and Jimmy Page wearing feathered wigs and cavorting with Tawny Kitaen.