You Could've Just Said That
Mother West, 2025
REVIEW BY: Jason Warburg
ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED: 02/14/2025
The Davenports is one of those monikers that feels intended to convey something about the singular creator behind it: a certain cheekiness, not to mention the force-multiplying effects of having a lot of musician friends. You Could’ve Just Said That is the fifth album written, recorded, produced and mostly performed by singer-multi-instrumentalist Scott Klass, a.k.a. The Davenports, but as usual, the guest list is lengthy and impressive.
On the musical front, The Davenports have drawn comparisons with Ben Folds, Fountains Of Wayne and Weezer, but each is only a partial match. Yes, Klass is witty and observant and employs a power-pop foundation (tight structure, strong melodies, rich harmonies), but this music feels gentler and more introspective than any of the above, homespun tunes built around acoustic guitar and a sometimes pointed, but just as often wistful, tone. The laughs are mostly of the nervous, uncomfortable sort, as our hapless narrator navigates a series of communication gaps and missed opportunities for connection.
Opener “When Everything’s Over” allows Klass to set the scene completely solo, with a bubbly, insistent melody and layered, slightly off-kilter feel, a song of awkward regrets. Batting second, the witty, densely layered “The Annabellas Of The World” features multiple acoustic rhythm guitar tracks, electric piano, handclaps and a quirky chorus of “na-na” harmonies that range from joyous to passive-aggressive, courtesy of guests Chris Collingwood (vocals / Fountains Of Wayne, Look Park) and Philip Price (vocals / Winterpill), joined by the rhythm section of Danny Weinkauf (bass / They Might Be Giants) and Rob Draghi (drums / Jake Stigers).
Another pair of guests features on “I Am Lying,” whose unreliable narrator rationalizes over pulsing acoustic guitar and piano, with strings adding fullness and emotion courtesy of Claudia Chopek (violin & viola / Father John Misty, Bright Eyes) and Eleanor Norton (cello / Adele, Natalie Merchant). “If You Put Me Next To Patti” is a smile-inducing tale whose fragile narrator is pleading his case for the seating chart at a wedding reception (“If you put me next to Patti, I’ll lie awake all night”). Then “We’re Talking About You” leans on funked-up lead bass and guest Matthew Klass’s fuzz guitar, with Scott delivering the tart dialogue between arguing partners: “We’re not talking about me right now / We’re talking about you.”
The second half offers fresh shades and variations without ranging too far. “Full-Length Mirror” rides plaintive acoustic and percussion, a wistful, rather Beatlesque number. The title track features bouncy acoustic, thrummy keys and multi-tracked harmonies, a travelogue of miscommunication (“You could’ve just said that / And you would’ve been fine”) punctuated by a pedal steel solo from guest Jack McLoughlin. “I’m Not Gonna Bother You” feels like half-speed power-pop, while “When I Tell You That I’m Sorry” crafts a late highlight, a poignant little gem examining how different people react to sadness and grief.
Final track “We Know We Want To” features guest Dan Miller (They Might Be Giants) on piano and feels like a typically sweet-and-melancholy album-closing Fountains Of Wayne number as Klass pleads for a truce and a moment’s comfort: “Let’s hold each other like / We know we want to.”
Klass’s rather breathy, laid-back vocals are well-suited to a bedroom album like this, which often feels like a late-evening conversation around the backyard firepit with a thoughtful friend. If it’s power pop—and the handclaps and harmonies and song structures tend to argue it is—it’s an unusually intimate variety.
You Could’ve Just Said That is populated with characters struggling and mostly failing to connect, a melancholy vision that’s brightened by strong melodies, clever arrangements and the singular vision of maestro Scott Klass. Glum never sounded so rosy.