Yorn a Yawn

Dull Pete Yorn fails to pop

Pete Yorn with Remy Zero and Phantom Planet at the Opera House, December 2. Tickets: $15. Attendance: 700. Rating: N

it’s not often that a mediocre one-album singer-songwriter such as Pete Yorn gets such a turnout for a show. What’s all the fuss about?No denying that he was as cute as a button in his red Adidas sports coat, but a dude in an Adidas sports coats should be singing about pink bubble gum nipples to backbeats or some jive like that, not trying to pawn himself off as the latest, greatest male musical sex symbol ever.

His album, Musicforthemorningaf -ter, is weak enough. Add a complete lack of stage presence or execution and you’ve got trouble. The dated brand of mainstream indie rock-pop (yes, that’s an oxymoron) may have pulled out the mainly 20-something crowd, but all the way to the back of the room there was no movement save the bartenders’, not even an occasional head nod.

Yorn and his band don’t understand that less is more. The group played at ear-piercing levels — pop is not supposed to be that loud, thank you — and throughout the night either Yorn played solo or the whole band went at full throttle. At no time did his outfit decide to be a band and play off each other to really entertain the crowd.

Yorn, who opened his set with Bruce Springsteen’s Atlantic City, may have some top-notch influences, but he’s got a long way to go before he’s gonna wow the pants off anyone, musically at least.

Even thanking the audience four-times for coming out on a Sunday night ain’t bringing him any redemption.

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