The Afterparty

This homespun, ten-track disc, packaged in what appears to be a wedding-invitation envelope, plays like the soundtrack to an autumn sunset written by Bob Dylan and the Band after emerging from the basement at Big Pink, with help from Townes Van Zandt and a bag of weed. Put these newcomers up against any unsigned (or signed, for that matter) band in town in a no-chords-barred showdown, and the Afterparty will have its opponent weeping at the mystery of life before its set is half-over. It’s unfortunate, then, that the Afterparty exhibits lack of self-commitment. Lead singer and songwriter Danny Fischer, for example — who croons like he grew up leading a drunken Pentecostal choir — is currently on a nonmusical, cross-country road adventure, with no gigs lined up for his band until late spring. And record deals? The Afterparty’s version of Richard Manuel — pianist Josh Mobley — says sure, they’ll pitch the album here and there. (We may have to do it for them.) But even if this becomes the album you pull out for your friends in the Big City 20 years from now, exhorting them in tragic tones to listen to the greatest band that never was, you’ll at least have a great record to get drunk to — and, in the morning, to soothe everyone’s hangover.