Seventeen-year-old singer/songwriter
Dave Melillo will make you wish you were in high school -- or at least at an age where summers are still carefree days of wasting time with friends and navigating through butterflies-in-the-stomach relationships. His earnest Drive-Thru debut,
Talk Is Cheap, is an acoustic and piano-tinged homage to restless youth that is ready for the embracement of his pop-punk brethren -- and not just the ones going through excruciating break-ups. It's hardly a shock that
Jamie Wisner, the man behind the controls for
Dashboard Confessional's first albums, produced the EP. His skill is perfect for the job, as
Melillo's music is based in the same school of heartfelt rock that can simultaneously burst with bright passion on one track and strip back down to an emoting voice and six-strings on the next. As is the case, the EP sounds like the result of early
Dashboard and
the Starting Line blended into one fresh-faced emo milk shake with a touch of
the Rocket Summer's boyish charm sprinkled on top for taste. Though the styling is similar, it's this combination that keeps the young songwriter a step past being another sulking
Chris Carrabba acoustic clone: Basically, he just seems happier. Of course, love still hurts ("Sam's Song," "Morris County Blues"), but it's when
Melillo unaffectedly addresses more age-specific topics like moving on past high school and appreciating one's youth that he shines. Quirky keyboards and handclaps help "Vatican Roulette" explore the awkwardness of a guy losing his virginity by following the naïve bravado of the drunken, noteworthy night, while "Knights of the Island Counter" is simply a summery ode to being young and enjoying life. Simple and pretty straightforward in his delivery, the not-yet-legal
Melillo still has room to grow past the obvious hallmarks driving Drive-Thru's roster and the
Dashboard Confessional branch of emo. But he's just getting started, and
Talk Is Cheap is encouraging in that he has already found more to say outside of yesterday's broken heart. ~ Corey Apar