It’s worth noting from the outset that this isn’t the Glaswegian Cortez – these doppelgangers hail from the unlikely indie stronghold of Norwich, and serve up an odd blend of guitar pop and curious Americana. Despite the witty pop-culture reference of their latest release, though, they feel a little light on tunes, especially those of the bubblegum variety Moody, broody and brimful of attitude, it’d be nice to have the odd song to sing along to once in a while.
Thankfully it’s not all doom and gloom. ‘Stranger In Town’ might sound like a Nick Cave tribute band, but ‘O, Alcohol’ has a jaunty swagger in its step that The Wonder Stuff would have been proud of. If you can ignore the title then ‘The Nihilist’ offers an upbeat highlight to the album too, although it probably won’t be enough to get you dancing. For every ‘O, Alcohol’, though, there’s a ‘Cannibalist Manifesto’, a dull, messy plod that feels like it’s there to make up the numbers, and this is an album that never really manages to stagger to its feet.
I could stand the gloomy atmospherics if there were a few decent tunes to hang them on, but with every song miserably muttered into a long-suffering microphone there are too few sparks of brightness to make this album shine. Too orangey for crows, and too darned dull for the rest of us.