Chester French’s Love the Future: Apathetic Pop With a Brit-Invasion Complex

It was hard to cop a buzz from most of the northeast collegiate bands in the early oughts; the music was by and large unexceptional, and most of the musicians spent as much time in front of an easel—or wrapped around a bong—as they did practicing. But then there were the rumors coming out of Harvard: the college’s most convincing band had a retro, jammy thing going on; they performed cheeky pop songs while wearing Bermuda tuxedos; their lead guitarist had a Trey-worthy tone but played with his back to the audience, Miles Davis-style, too aloof or too shy to give a proper rock ‘n’ roll performance.

A year later, I saw Chester French play a stuffed, sweaty Harvard venue known as the Fishbowl, and the guitarist had transformed. He gamboled about the stage, wagging his tongue at the audience and coining a curious update of the Chuck Berry duck-walk. Shredded, too. Their songs were generally OK, their stage presence above average, their ODB cover insolently upper-crust and a total slam-dunk.

The bow-tie, white-boy hooks were enough to catch the attention of rhythmic prepster Kanye West, who called during the spring of their senior year to offer them a record deal. Smart-alecks that they were, they turned him down, opting to become the first white guys ever produced by Pharrell Williams. Two years in L.A. and one trendily short-lived debutante marriage ensued (that shy freshman guitarist? He grew up fast!). And now we have Love the Future, the first full-length from the two remaining members of the undergrad lineup.

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