The Tomahawks

When it comes to pop-rock sidemen, there are few in North Carolina with a better résumé than Nick Jaeger. In the early 2000s, he added precise shredding to an iteration of Roman Candle’s explosive power-pop. More recently, he has been the dominant force in the tangling guitars that made Max Indian’s Southern-fried Brit-pop so explosive, while also laying down the lush, intricate prickles that filled out Luego’s luxurious roots rock. As a traditional rock guitar player, he’s proven there’s little he can’t do; before a couple years ago, though, successful band leader wasn’t an accolade he had.

With the Tomahawks, Jaeger swoops into that position. Here he’s the principal songwriter and constant lead singer. Jaeger never really sang or did anything other than just play a mean guitar in his previous engagements; now, he’s calling the shots, and his decisions show marks of past experience. His are classic pop songs, the kind that carve out blissful melodies with a timeless air that makes them feel they were happened upon, not written.

Like his previous bands, the Tomahawks revel in pop with a ’60s flair, but the results have a feel all their own. Landing somewhere between the instantly infectious catharsis of Roman Candle and the rugged sway of Luego, they make songs that relax you even as they put a jump in your step, like a cup of highly caffeinated coffee counteracted with a double shot of whiskey. Pianos clang chords in patient ambles, while riffs cycle and soar. Jaeger’s voice fits this methodically fun approach. He lacks amazing pipes, but he lays into these cuts with a breathy croon. A sideman no longer, Jaeger leads his band with a peaceful confidence that makes it hard to believe he ever had to follow. —Jordan Lawrence