Ben Sommer is a multi-instrumentalist who creates what he describes as “edgy, political prog rock.” Musically, 'America'd' fuses the complexities of Rush and Zappa with chugalong 80's New Wave hooks. Coming on like a cross between David Lee Roth and Jello Biafra, Sommer rails against all he sees as wrong with his nation and the world in tirades such as “Adult Children”, where he baits the Nintendo generation for their laziness and misplaced sense of whining entitlement. 

At its best, as on 'Little Hitlers', it takes the snotty adrenaline of punk while managing to recall cult 80's prog acts like Demon. The chorus of 'whoah-oh's' from Iron Maiden's 'The Trooper' are warped to disturbing effect. In weaker moments, I'm reminded of occasions when AOR is parodied to embellish South Park episodes or 'Team America'. Sommer, like Biafra, is certainly adept at employing sarcasm and irony to express his worldview. He is also prodigiously talented in wrapping sophisticated skits around the shifting structures of the songs. However, the superior, mocking tone will begin to grate if you're expecting moments of sensitivity or unbridled aggression.

The only real relief from the relentless sarcasm comes in the form of “Sumerian Proletarian.”  It's a rather nifty minor chord, classic rock mantra using eastern instrumentation.  Yet, given its neighbours on the album, you can't help but wonder if he's taking the piss, either out of the musical style, or out of you as the listener.  Elsewhere, 'Saint Martha' is both charming and infuriating, huge Townshend chords crashing against a parasitic vocal line.  The mock G-Funk of “Kill The Estrogen Queens” is wry, contrarian and, alas, shit.

As a whole, 'America'd' sounds like a Tea Party rock opera. Blows are aimed at the soft belly of the liberal left, and the flimsy default political stance occupied by so many mega-rich rock bands masquerading as rebels.  The welfare state is seen only as a nannying, corrupt enemy of progress. Sommer's playground is situated firmly in the social climate across the pond, so personally I can cut him some slack for perhaps not sharing my enthusiasm for trade union resistance or tax-funded health and education. It is important to have an oppositional voice that makes you question your own views. He is also an articulate advocate of radical free-market economics,  a subject on which you could write my expertise on the back of a lime bound for Plymouth Rock.

Speaking of sourness, there is a sardonic critique of immigration laws: “Speekie Engrish.” It may or may not be tongue-in-cheek, but for me the overbearing xenophobia is disappointingly one-eyed. It is destined for the thumbs-up from redneck trollers across the USA, reflecting an appeal to the very lowest-common-denominator hatefulness that much of the album vents its disgust at. This left a bitter taste.

Ben's concern is not surfing the zeitgeist, instead defining the world around him using the music that has defined his life. As an articulation of disgust I guess it kind of works in its uncompromising discomfort and zero concession to sentiment. Like a lot of prog rock , you can see that something rather clever and accomplished is going on, but deep down you feel nothing other than vaguely unsettled. 

In my eyes, this studied opus is so cerebral that it never truly explodes. But, if you like satirical prog with memorable choruses and unconventional chord changes, Ben Sommer may well worm his way into your consciousness.  His website, which includes an excellent self-deprecating timeline of his creative life to date, is also well worth a visit.