Beechnut St., the latest from Toronto’s Purple Hill, features guitar-driven tunes with a slightly modern twist. The disc mostly stays true to a bluesy Americana feel, adding quirky lyrics to the classic chord progressions in an attempt to bring these tunes into 2009.

The album falls short on a number of fronts, including singer Owen Marchildon’s vocals, which struggle towards a so-so approximation of Bob Dylan. The most frustrating part of the listening experience, though, comes from hearing interesting songs degenerate into decidedly boring, jam-like endings. The beginning of Beechnut St. builds up a great deal of energy, utilizing drum-filled gang-vocal romps. It soon sounds played out, leaning on the songs’ structures a little too hard. “The Ballad of Roommate #2” is a perfect example of the album’s shortfalls, plodding along with loose guitar noodling and Marchildon’s whining vocals piercing eardrums above it all.

“Hey There Blockhead” provides some solace with a stripped-down and slow-building structure, with a melancholy guitar riff making way for Marchildon’s singing whispers. The track does a good job of tricking the listener into expecting a climax before skillfully backing down. After starting to genuinely build momentum, it transforms into an endearing, synth-filled ballad. It’s one of a handful of catchy moments on Beechnut St., but there’s too few to make up for Marchildon’s emotion-dripping laments and some painfully predictable songwriting.