[01.04] By now, we've all grown accustomed to having the recycled trappings of the Reagan Era foisted upon us. New wave to No wave, leotards to pegged pants. Which leads me to John Hughes. Sure, we all know the master's works. But what if he was to make his films today? Who would provide the equivalent of the Psychedelic Furs' "Pretty in Pink" or Simple Minds' "Don't You Forget About Me"? After listening to Statistics' Leave Your Name, I think I might know the answer.

Now don't misunderstand: Statistics is no throwback, watered-down rehash of any '80s genre. The songs are, for the most part, fresh combinations of electronic interludes and powerful guitar refrains. It's the sentiment contained therein that makes Leave Your Name the perfect soundtrack to a lost Ringwald film.

The songs reflect a range of complaints similar to any random pick from the Hughes catalog, from a Duckie Dale-esque attack on the emptiness of conspicuous consumption and the rise of hollowness in modern America ("Accomplishment") to the adolescent frustration of lost love that is skillfully represented in the three-song opus, "Chairman Of The Bored," "2 A.M.," and "A Number, not A Name." Even the instrumentals convey similar tones; "Mr. Nathan" would be a perfect accompaniment to Gary and Wyatt finally celebrating their hard-won acceptance, on their own terms.

If these themes sound familiar and perhaps threadbare to you, their ubiquity is also recognized by Statistics. The album's opener, "Sing a Song," ironically commands that the band "Please don't pout / Or sing of love / It's all been done." These lines serve as a clever disclaimer for the feeling found throughout Leave Your Name. Indeed, the songwriting remains generally strong, only occasionally indulging in undiluted teenage self-pity that makes a track (such as "The Grass is Always Greener") seem like a likely pick for an upcoming One Tree Hill episode. By the same token, the witty lyrics on "Hours Seemed Like Days" are the only thing saving the song from tomorrow's Total Request Live playlist.

I was glad to have listened to the album several times before reading the literature that had accompanied it. It turns out that Statistics is, in fact, Denver Dalley, guitarist for Desaparecidos. That's all well and good, but the one-sheet is sure to mention "buddy Conor Oberst's Bright Eyes" in the opening sentence. Not being a raving fan of his "buddy's" music, I was happy not to have it color my initial opinion. And there's no reason it should: Dalley has produced a thoroughly listenable album. Dalley's clear but plaintive voice is a treat and he proves that he is as comfortable and competent behind a pile of Moogs as he is in front of a Marshall stack. Sure, Dalley doesn't discover any new truths, but he knew he wasn't undertaking a perilous expedition. Like most entries in the John Hughes catalog, he shows us what we already know but entertains thoroughly in the process. —JC