4 To Watch: HAL

photo by Tara Darby

(Above [L-R]: HAL's Stephen O'Brien, Dave Allen and Paul Allen)

“When we reached the end, we couldn’t believe it was ours,” gushes HAL frontman Dave Allen, voice giddy, words caked with thick Irish brogue. “We knew we had made the record that we wanted to make. Now we just have to hand it over to the rest of the world.”

It’s not particularly uncommon for Allen to slip into paternal clichés when discussing his work—he cradles HAL adoringly, clucking, grinning and gurgling with pride, seemingly oblivious to the ironic detachment common in American indie rock. His earnestness can be oddly disarming: Allen describes the band’s partnership with U.K. indie Rough Trade as “a relationship of trust and love between people,” he thinks music is “just for people to enjoy, it should be accessible, it’s there for everybody” and also considers his folk-singing father HAL’s most important critic. “We gave him the rough mix of the record and he said, ‘This record is going into my record collection, next to Joni Mitchell.’ He was so proud! He couldn’t believe it was actually us,” Allen happily beams.

HAL’s self-titled debut—a charming collection of polished pop that reflects effusive Irish spirit rather than drab Dublin weather—has already earned the band (drummer Steve Hogan, keyboardist Stephen O’Brian and brother Paul Allen on bass), a mess of comparisons to compatriots The Thrills. It’s a link Allen finds increasingly wearisome. “We grew up within a three mile radius of each other, but we’re completely different bands,” Allen sighs. “I hope the record will prove that.”

Strange and syrupy, HAL’s sunny songs borrow The Beach Boys’ eager, saccharine harmonies, but the record ultimately deviates from the familiar Cali-pop formula, nodding, instead, to songwriting greats Carole King and Burt Bacharach, mining the catalogues of Harry Nilsson and George Gershwin, and integrating classic, early-’70s AM radio into contemporary pop rock. Allen cites the Brill Building songwriters as a significant muse. In the ’60s, the Brill housed an alarmingly integrated army of music-industry recruits, with arrangers, producers, promoters, performers, managers and writers plowing away under a single roof.

“I’m a huge fan of all that music,” Allen admits, “of the songs and the production and the arrangements. I love the idea of building songs. I love the entire idea of the Brill Building—of songwriters going in at nine and working in an office with a piano and coming up with a beautiful song by five. That’s amazing.”