If Fountains of Wayne create snarky power pop songs for Friday evenings, then Nada Surf is the band for Sunday afternoons. They've grown more emotive over the years, having replaced the sarcasm of 1996's "Popular" with a grown-up focus on pop songcraft and mellow instrumentation. And they've been lucky, too -- lucky in that their audience has remained, their (once rocky) label situation has steadied, and their chops have improved. Appropriately enough, Lucky sounds like a celebration of the band's good fortune. Somber songs are still present, most notably the plaintive closer "The Film Did Not Go 'Round," but most of the album is dominated by steady, mid-tempo pop/rock. Nada Surf spent the first half of the 2000s making subdued rainy day records, which makes Lucky seem downright sunny (if not supernova bright) in comparison. There are some particularly luminous moments here, including the back-to-back punch of "Whose Authority" and "Beautiful Beat," where the songs immediately unleash their hooks and sustain that energy for minutes. "Beautiful beat, get me out of this mess; beautiful beat, lift me up from distress," sings Matthew Caws, sounding restless and happy at the same time, as if he knows his anxiety can be quelled at any moment by the sounds of his brightest record to date. But Lucky never gets lost in that sort of happiness. Nada Surf has seen too much over the past 15 years not to be cautious, and the leadoff track "See These Bones" warns younger bands to be similarly careful with their careers. "Look alive, see these bones," the lyrics advise. "What you are now, we were once -- and just like we are, you'll be dust." As the song ends, three different melodies weave themselves together, all of them instantly memorable and worthy of being a chorus in their own right. So even when Lucky tries to turn down the glow, it still radiates with the oomph of a solid power pop release, making Nada Surf's fifth album a fine finale for a weekend well-spent. ~ Andrew Leahey, All Music Guide
Upon its reissue in 2003, Let Go had already positioned itself to be an indie rock milestone in the making for Nada Surf. They'd left the major labels behind for Barsuk's hearth and home, and remained for their fourth album, The Weight Is a Gift. The savory punk threads found on Let Go are much more relaxed this time out. The snarky, boyish charm of High/Low, which made the band a brief mainstream favorite in the mid-'90s, won't ever fade, but ten years later Nada Surf don't appear to be that interested in the angst-ridden, fashionable appeal that they once were; each member is now over 30. The Weight Is a Gift is a soothing fit for those who grew up with the band. This 11-song set calls clichés into question, challenges old convictions, and somehow makes sense of growing older without losing sight of one's youth. Looking inward isn't always an easy thing to do. Nada Surf have composed fine songs for free-thinking, analytical, and pensive individuals, without being overly complex. The result of all this experience and reflection is that Nada Surf and producer/Death Cab for Cutie guitarist Chris Walla have made a great pop/rock record. It's more of an emotive affair, with soft-hued guitar layers, hushed harmonies, and frontman Matthew Caws' signature aching, bittersweet performances. From the gloomy orchestrations of "My Legs Grow" and the shiny hopes of "All Is a Game" to the more unapologetic, rollicking moments such as "Blankest Year" and "Armies Walk," the disc never loses momentum. Each song is perfectly trimmed, cut to flow without the touch of heavy production, especially "In the Mirror" and "Imaginary Friends." The Weight Is a Gift is Nada Surf's most honest and earnest record to date. ~ MacKenzie Wilson, All Music Guide
A funny thing happened to Nada Surf on the way to sure-fire late-'90s alt-rock stardom. Despite obtaining a decent amount of MTV exposure, their sardonic first single, "Popular," ultimately arrived just moments too late to capitalize on the era's short-lived mainstream fancy with geek rock. And with no quality second hit in sight, neither 1996's moderately successful High/Low nor its forgettable 1998 follow-up, The Proximity Effect, gained much traction outside the indie rock underground -- seemingly consigning the trio to the dreaded one-hit-wonder bin. Subsequently dropped by Elektra, Nada Surf settled into a prolonged state of hibernation (only drummer Ira Elliot was heard from, thanks to his regular session work), so that even committed fans would have to be forgiven for washing their hands of the group during this four-year silence. That is, until the belated and understated 2002 arrival of their revealing third opus, Let Go, on which Nada Surf showed that they refused to quietly fade away into gimmick-enforced exile by putting their faith into their own pop songwriting instincts. The resulting record takes its title quite literally, as layer after layer of preconceived notions and excess noise are stripped away to unveil both soft-spoken charm and intense newfound confidence. Upbeat, electrified fare like "Hi-Speed Soul" and the Foo Fighters-lite of "The Way You Wear Your Head" is now the exception to the rule established by predominantly acoustic numbers like "Blizzard of '77," "Fruit Fly," and "Neither Heaven nor Space," all of which strike a heartaching chord with their bewitching melancholy. The French-sung "La Pour Ca" offers a mesmerizing, Pink Floyd-styled laziness, while additional mellow highlights such as "Inside of Love," "Blonde on Blonde," and "Paper Boats" somehow manage to sound sadly introspective and positively sunny at the same time, welcoming the listener to doze in their arms. Not exactly a reinvention as much as a reaffirmation of their original purpose, Let Go seems to mark a new beginning for Nada Surf. ~ Eduardo Rivadavia, All Music Guide
On their second album of amiable alternapop, New York trio Nada Surf casually strolls through a thick catalog of various post-grunge styles to suitable, but uninteresting, effect. Producer Fred Maher brings a more rounded, and heftier, wall of sound to their delicately balanced tales of life in the superficial and wishy-washy '90s than Ric Ocasek did on their 1996 debut, High Low, but it's all ultimately disposable and utterly forgettable. While there are times where The Proximity Effect tries to break out of the limiting corner of the alt-rock universe it's staked for itself (like the power-popping rave-up "Why Are You So Mean to Me?"), more often than not it returns to the familiar, and assumingly comforting, haven of angst-free pop. Nothing really wrong with that concept, but it's certainly one that will keep Nada Surf marked and suppressed with hyphenated labels. ~ Michael Gallucci, All Music Guide
The Weezer wannabe tags were certainly understandable when it came to Nada Surf's debut; besides a similarity of intent (a quick, punchy post-grunge pop/rock album with quick, punchy post-grunge pop/rock songs), the production from Ric Ocasek sealed the deal for many. The fact that the band had been going for a while before Weezer's own 1995 splash seems to have been ignored, admittedly. But if Nada Surf never came up with anything that had the influence and lingering impact of Pinkerton, say, High/Low is a nicely frazzled and fun release that actually bears a little similarity at points to prime Cheap Trick. To be sure, it's not an exact comparison (Caws is nowhere near the singer Robin Zander is, for a start), but in terms of spiky intensity shot through with just enough emotional yearning, Caws has the job down well. His guitar playing does the business well enough, while the Lorca/Elliot rhythm section similarly shows its skill track for track. Elsewhere, Ocasek brings his usual sharp ear to the proceedings, while engineer Bruce Calder does a great job of capturing songs that brim with crackling fierceness and a solid, thick punch in equal measures. "The Plan," with its careening verses offset by Caws' deceptively calm but focused delivery, not to mention sudden midsong shifts down several speeds, and the galloping, downright uplifting yet indecisive "Treehouse" are two good reasons not to dismiss the band or album out of hand. One of the more amusing twists on the proto-emo formula comes with "Popular," which rather than taking the point of view of the wounded outsider talks about the high school winners, a mournful yet crunching arrangement and ranted verses providing the contrast to the wryly deadpan chorus. ~ Ned Raggett, All Music Guide