Jim Testa - There Goes The Neighborhood (2004)

Make no mistake about it; Jim Testa has been kicking around the New York/New Jersey rock scene for quite some time. For nearly a quarter-century, Testa has documented this ever-changing scene in the pages of his excellent Jersey Beat music zine and for many of these years, this scribe has had the pleasure of contributing album reviews to this respected publication. Whenever a writer the stature of Testa turns his talents towards performing, however, we fellow critics have to observe the results with a microscopic eye towards the results. In the case of There Goes The Neighborhood, Testa's follow-up to last year's wonderfully wry Songs My Father Never Sang EP, the results are quite encouraging.

Testa sings in a nasally, slightly fractured voice not dissimilar to Jonathan Richman's – a friendly, folkish storytelling voice that emphasizes the lyrics and lends substance to the words. Testa is a skilled wordsmith, weaving personal observations with a fine eye for imagery into interesting tableaus that evince as much punk attitude as anything you'll hear from Good Charlotte or Sum-41. There Goes The Neighborhood opens with "Planet Williamsburg," a satirical slash at the "hipster capital" of the world delivered with sufficient venom above a spry, Tex-Mex flavored soundtrack. The forty-something Testa has a little fun at his own expense with "(I Need The) Queer Eye (For The Straight Guy)," an '80s-styled rave-up with great Farfisa organ and the singer's funny, self-effacing lyrics.

"Punk Rock Is Not Daycare" asks the eternal question, "am I punk enough?" even while delivering a blistering indictment of teen punks that have no sense of the genre's history. "(Everything Is Swell In) Weehawken" is a nod to Testa's hometown, pulling no punches as he describes the city, warts and all, with no little humor and wordplay so imaginative that you can almost smell the city streets. The hard rocking "Sally's Got A New Tattoo" the "girl next door" who has evolved into a black-clad, "hipper than thou" type looking down her nose at anybody who isn't part of her (narrow) scene. "Carla" is a song for Testa's mom, a loving ode with a country lilt. A bonus track offers the demo version of "Jean Shepherd" from his previous EP, a tribute to the writer and humorist that is both nostalgic and a reaffirmation of childhood innocence. This version isn't necessarily better than the original; it's just a good song that will evoke fond memories from any aging baby boomer.

I'd like to see what Testa could do with a real recording budget and the promotional power of a strong indie label. Both There Goes The Neighborhood and the previous Songs My Father Never Sang are entertaining and intelligent – albeit brief – collections of well-written and engaging songs. Testa may not be singing about leprechauns or ice cream men, but his material is consistently charming, witty and fun to listen to. After almost 30 years writing about music, Testa has developed an ear for what makes rock & roll work, and it shows in There Goes The Neighborhood. (Jersey Beat Music)