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Heading down the road from Save Me, San Francisco, Train take a journey on California 37, creating a pseudo-concept album about either the Golden State or Pat Monahan grappling with middle-aged crazies or perhaps a combination of the two. Back in the days of Drops of Jupiter, there was some semblance of grit within their rhythms, but in the wake of the near-novelty "Hey Soul Sister," the singalong ditty riddled with naughty rhymes, Train feel free to shed any suggestion that they get down and dirty. California 37 is all sunshine and open roads, all light and bright colors, chirpy pop intent on wearing down your defenses. And that relentless cheer surely suits Train, who happily exist in the surfaces of the modern world, so California 37, in a sense, is a purer record for the trio than even Drops of Jupiter. Here, there's nothing preventing them from indulging in the silliest rhymes, baffling name-drops, nagging hooks, and earworm melodies. You may hate California 37, but you'll never be able to get it out of your head.
Review by Stephen Thomas Erlewine
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