No Frowning Allowed. Well, Sometimes

The Skygreen Leopards are Glen Donaldson and Donovan Quinn, a California duo who have been making music under the moniker since 2001. Their sound is like the more innocent little brother of Girls and Smith Westerns borrowing the notable high-pitched whisper. Family Crimes is a collection of fourteen, two-minute janglers that speak about love, but it’s all done abstractly in a sweet-nothings type lyricism.

On the cover of Family Crimes, a skull enters through an open window like a laser beam onto a table with the recognizable sights of a suburban home: kids’ colored gym socks and an elementary school painting of an orange on a fridge. The artwork is kind of eerie– there’s something off about a skull amongst the domestic and innocently plain home environment. After listening to the record, it fits the mood of the album: songs with lyrics held down by melancholy verses but lifted by sounds reminiscent of sun and smiles.  It’s a juxtaposition that gives this album its layers.

“Suburban Bibles,” the final track of the record, gives a peek into the Leopard’s neighborhood. “I know, I know it’s just a game, just a stupid game we play / he said, he said a light will shine, he said that yesterday / there’s a chain-linked fence.”  We’re taken into the chorus: “Hey let’s jump it / hey let’s jump it,” Donaldson and Quinn go on. The soundtrack to this teenage mischief are whistling keys, a guitar arrangement that couldn’t possibly make you frown and a head-bobbing beat fit for a late afternoon walk through the park.

The Leopard’s lyrics can also take a darker turn. On “It’s Not Love,” the duo sings, “Just another homicide, and you’re on your way / too much blood on the water, nothing left to save / it’s not love,” they echo after each other.  It’s this occasional rotten apple that give this album its dimensions.  While these sour gems aren’t abundant, the track list isn’t a bunch of flat, happy sing-alongs.

It’s hard to recognize the gloom when it’s all drenched in California bliss. All songs fall short of the three-minute mark, but it’s enough to make the tracks little pieces of ear candy. “Selling T-Shirts,” one of the album’s happiest tracks features an upbeat chorus: “Everything’s a-ok these days / selling T-shirts, catching snails.” It’s hard to tell, but they might be catching snakes instead. Snails or snakes, it doesn’t matter.  In the scenery of Family Crimes, there’s nothing to worry about except maybe the occasional sun shower.