Jon Lindsay’s simple guitar and distant vocals kick off his new release, Escape from Plaza-Midwood. Soon there is a sweet sound emerging from a harmonica, then a kickdrum and pristine harmonies. All the ingredients to a no-frills debut album. Unfortunately, “These Are the End Times” is a great start for what is ultimately a disappointing record. It isn’t a bad album, but the lesson to be learned here is that there’s no shame in keeping it simple. Yes, there is a fine line between simple and its nasty cousin, simplistic, but there is such a thing as trying too hard. With Escape from Plaza-Midwood, Lindsay went for a home run only to pop out at the warning track.

First, the positive. The aforementioned opening track is terrific. Lindsay released an EP in 2009, but “End Times” plays as an honest-to-goodness introduction. Nostalgic without being sticky-sweet or reaching “sad bastard” status, Lindsay connects with his audience very well. “My Blue Angel” is power-pop at its finest, with driving percussion anchoring the catchy chorus. “Futuretown” contains a nice hook (“Promise me that you’ll be good to me honey/promise me that you’ll be kind”) that should bring about a good amount of handclaps from audiences.

The instrumental “During the Beauty Shortage” is an upbeat tune with great drums and keyboards, recalling the finer moments of Ben Folds. “Frequent Flyer” brings along trumpets that don’t stick out; they pleasantly stand out. For Chicagoans, there’s a nice callout to the Damen stop (unless there’s another Damen stop in this beautiful country of ours) in the deceptively dirty “The Launch Codes”. This, the album’s 11th track, starts as a bar song only to lead to a, well, a pretty bridge and chorus. Well played on all counts, so far so good.

Lindsay doesn’t so much fall short as he fails going long. There are records that are too short, and there are records that are too long. Escape falls into the latter. The album works best when it doesn’t depend on drum machines or other forms of computer assistance, and by excising these songs the listener can appreciate a tight debut, rather than checking how many tracks remain. “Indie Prince Paul” and “Bring the Old You Back” fall victim to this fault. There are other “artificial” sounds throughout the record on good songs, but they don’t work on these two.

Other times, Lindsay comes off sounding like a pale imitation of power-pop veterans Fountains of Wayne (“Number Every Summer”) or like a poor man’s Ben Folds (“Baby Ray”). When pop music works, it has the potential to galvanise a nation, even the world. When it doesn’t, it irritates. Worse, it’s completely disposable. Jon Lindsay is not disposable. The talent is there, and there are some fine moments on Escape from Plaza-Midwood. Look forward to the return after his escape.