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. 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.