This is an uncomfortable review to write. I’ve kinda been dreading it. But with King of the Beach hitting digital stores last week on the heels of an inevitable early leak all adding up to a lot of chatter about this thing, it seems time to weigh in. It’s the implications of weighing in that scare me. This record stands as a kind of continental divide between the worlds of indie rock and mainstream pop-rock, if not from a purely listening standpoint then at least from a critical one. It’s divisive in the most textbook sense, splitting people into factions by its very nature. It seems to me that where you come down on this record says a lot about how you listen and what you expect from music. Here are those factions as I envision them.

Let’s say you come down negative on Wavves’ third album. You find the improved sound quality—maybe the presence of a producer and a full-time rhythm section at all—a shamelessly commercial move that pulls the rug out from under the noisy bedroom surf rock of Wavvves. You feel, as I did upon hearing the first single, that there’s such a direct kinship here (see: most of the album’s entire first half, save “When Will You Come?”) with shallow, barely-has-been pop-punk bands like Sugarcult or Sum 41 that there’s little point in giving its artistic merit serious consideration. It doesn’t help that “Post Acid” was released by a soft drink company parading as a record label and that the public record of Nathan Williams’ behavior is annoying at best (dude gets wasted so he can taunt his audience, throw bottles at his ex-drummer, and then whine like a spoiled brat about how everybody hates him). He opens the record by crowning himself “King of the Beach”—i.e. the leader of the late-00s indie rock summer/beach vibe, a silly claim by any measure—and follows it by showcasing his own simpering self-hatred. “I’d say I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t mean shit,” he sneers on “Idiot,” striking a rather translucent provocateur pose.

Beyond Williams being an unlikable figure, there’s also the issue of the increasingly-predictable arsenal he’s playing with. Beach Boys falsetto hooks, loud guitars, songs about being bored, going to the beach, and getting high—these are low-hanging fruit for indie poppers in 2010. At some point, we’re going to have to stop giving mediocre bands credit for keeping an ear to the ground for of-the-moment sounds. Williams has certainly made his band an easy target for dismissal, but putting energy and thought into hating the new Wavves carries with it a certain outdated futility, too. Catchy guitar pop has been around for decades, cycling through different ‘scenes’ and aesthetic packages that never really last. It’s kinda unfair and shortsighted to expect thoughtful, progressive, complex ‘art’ from someone who’s never given us a reason to anticipate that kind of stuff. Having those kinds of standards for everything you listen to can result in a dry, stodgy, humorless listening habit and turn you into one of those guys that complains about there being no good new bands and how everything was better twenty-plus years ago.

This is where Beach’s supporters come in. It’s been argued that Wavves aren’t conceding to pig-headed drivel, but rather reclaiming upbeat, bratty, careless pop-punk from the dustbin of the mid-90s when the genre was wrongly co-opted by hyper-masculine radio. Plenty of people who make and listen to indie-minded music today grew up listening to bands like Green Day and it’s sadly pretentious to act like you didn’t, bra’. And what’s so wrong with having a good time playing and listening to simple, infectious songs about the way tons of real people live (in California, we’re told)? Why do we need to be so up-tight and serious all the time? And when has some iteration of 60s pop not been musically in vogue over the past forty years?

Plus, painting Beach as just a snotty punk record is mad reductive, yo. About half these songs feature head-bobbing programmed beats, fat synthesizers, and softer touches like theremin and glockenspiel. “When Will You Come?,” “Baseball Cards,” and “Mickey Mouse” are all built on foundations of reverberant psych samples. “Cards” relies heavily on woozy, unstable synth tones and singsong backing vocals that sound like the electro end of Animal Collective with a poignant sentiment to match: “I don’t wanna walk outside without you…’cuz where would I go?” “Mouse” pulls a similar trick, creating a rhythm track out of the intro to “Da Doo Ron Ron.” It’s pretty, but doesn’t have quite the endlessly circular vibe of the Panda Bear solo work it emulates. Meanwhile, it turns out Williams’ new bandmates (who used to tour with the late Jay Reatard) can write some capable songs of their own. Bassist Stephen Pope’s “Linus Spacehead” maintains the slacker rock ethos while favoring lyrical images over attitude. Drummer Billy Hayes (who’s also known to mock the crowd at gigs) turns out two of the best songs here, the bouncy Blondie pop of “Convertible Balloon” and closer “Baby Say Goodbye,” which showcases a slicker sense of dark humor (“Without my baby / let me die, oh yeah / die, uh-huh”) on a fully-orchestrated track that reminds me of early Elvis Costello.

Of course, taking the populist/’poptimist’ stance on this record has its own conceptual pitfalls. If all that we want from music is fun times, cool vibes, and catchy tunes, aren’t we throwing the baby out with the bathwater? Doesn’t it dismantle the need for things like ‘taste’ or ‘discernment?’ Beach’s pop pedigree will make it instantly appealing to a lot of people—which isn’t necessarily bad—but we can’t build our entire musical world on this crap. Personally, I don’t see a great way to reconcile the conflicted reactions it seems to generate, which is why I wasn’t terribly psyched to talk about it in the first place. Wavvves grew on me after a few months and maybe this one will follow suit, but I’m not sure if I want it to.