Part product of the flower-power era, part Clinton-era rocker turned towards meditation and kombucha, Jay Regan seemingly has quite a bit to espouse on Wash Me. A whirling dervish of directions and styles, Regan is quizzically fascinated with straddling disparately dissimilar textures of music.
Regan hails from the school of though that a flurry of horns, ample crash cymbals and bombastic instrumentation are the formula for an adequate buildup through the record. While this approach may work for the likes of BoDeans and Gin Blossoms cuts from approximately 25 years ago, Regan’s talent seems drowned in the cacophony of noise.
Where Regan succeeds is early on in Wash Me, with tracks like the more muted “Can’t Let Go” and the slight patriarchal ball-busting of “Dad.” While neither are quiet counterparts, per se, to the rest of the album, the more stripped-down tracks accurately represent the singer-songwriter’s ambitions to ascribe to the early 90’s fuzz rock. Perhaps Regan is truly not presenting a contest (or homage) to Dean and Gene Ween, but there is an undeniable impression of the pro-slacker sound within Regan’s work.
It’s unclear whether or not Regan is driven more by ambition or sorrow in Wash Me, but that ubiquitous nature of the record plays to Regan’s favor. In the numerous and sometimes strange (see: the dubiously mixed and recorded “Little Fish (A Song For Eli”) annals he touches across the 15 tracks, Regan seems to explore nearly every concept he has ever had for a record – quite a few ain’t half bad.