It’s OK if you don’t take the Rodeo Boys seriously. The local cut-ups, whose somewhat slapstick songs make them class clowns among the scene’s more stoic musicians, consider their ironic humor lost on certain audiences. They suspect the kids of America might not pick up on subtle innuendos behind lines like, “There’s a monkey in the kitchen making beans and rice.” In fact, inside jokes and references to Scott Baio might explain the group’s poor track record with the under-21 crowd.

“I think the band walks an ironic line that’s a bit above most younger music-lovers’ heads,” says bassist Greg Midgely, who joined drummer Clayton Scrivner, guitarist-vocalist George Elliot and Rhodes-maestro Ben Warren when founding member Brett “The Switch” Luddeman moved to Chicago. “More intelligent high-school students would probably understand what we’re going for.”

Music for intelligent high-school students. It might seem derogatory, but the description is hopeful considering mainstream music reps take their cues from faux-hawked adolescents. But wait—the Rodeo Boys want to infiltrate the mainstream? Three years ago, they weren’t exactly gunning for success. The artwork for 2002’s Same as Cash featured a John Belushi-like photo of the boys racing around a track, cigarettes and cheap beer in tow. Songs like “Ecstasy Dad” and “Pancakes, Pancakes,” while endearing, sounded fairly amateurish when Elliot’s voice cracked or Scrivner skipped an obvious beat.

Uneven musicianship is largely absent on Flex (TheRodeoBoys.com), TRB’s highly anticipated sophomore effort. Inspired by a Las Vegas gay bar, the album proves their ability to shape it up, get straight, go forward and move ahead with nine groovy tracks built on tight instrumentals and lyrics that are both absurd and heartfelt. From the spaced-out opener “Ancient Age” to the guitar-driven retro-rock of “I Don’t Feel So Good,” its songs are so solid and catchy, listeners might wonder, “Is this the same band that brought us Cash?”

“You wouldn’t think that we would be capable of making something this good,” says Scrivner, adding that even he wasn’t sure they’d pull it off. “The recording quality is a lot better. A lot of that has to do with the facilities [including the defunct Moroccan] and [engineer] Jeremy Smith’s magic touch.”

Thanks to a bit of well-timed karma, Flex also benefits from a richer, fuller sound. Elliot, who typically rocks an acoustic, switched to electric when his favorite instrument got crushed under Scrivner’s hatchback. He plugged-in out of necessity but dug the results enough to shoot for more acoustic/electric duality on a regular basis. Still, while Elliot believes that the rest of the group pimps respectable chops on Flex, his newly spotlighted skills are lackluster at best.

“I feel like I’ve regressed,” he says. “I’m not some virtuoso. So as the songs become more and more technical, I sometimes feel like I’m not good enough.”

Midgely believes such feelings of inadequacy simply add to TRB’s appeal. He joined the band because of their attention to songwriting—not their ability to shred.

“People react better to that aspect than to some guy who can play a million notes a minute on his guitar,” he says, adding that he’d only played bass for three months before TRB started on Flex. “I was a little worried. I didn’t want to sound like a hack. But it turned out pretty nicely.”

Nice enough to make the Top 40? Perhaps. Only time—and adolescent trends—will tell. Until then, TRB are satisfied with Flex’s limited release through Direct Drive Records and the small, but faithful, group of followers bound to sing along when Scrivner channels Spandau Ballet. Sure, Midgely would rather rock out than sell mortgages and Elliot really wants to write Kelly Clarkson’s next hit, but at the end of the day they have gigs to play, women to love and jokes to tell … even if no one else gets them.

by Jamie Gadette Read more on Last.fm. User-contributed text is available under the Creative Commons By-SA License; additional terms may apply.