There’s a very natural air to this album. It sounds as though the musicians in the band are actually, you know, enjoying the music they are making. It sounds totally un-self-conscious and unafraid to be what it actually is – a great rock’n’roll album. And yes, this is the album by that band with Charlie form busted in it. So, put aside all your prejudices, open up your ears and let’s all listen to what the man has to say. Well, first of all, he’s obviously keen to enjoy himself, let his hair down and do a bit of a Robbie. This is not to say that Mr. Williams is just a complete role model, or even that Charlie wants to be some kind of Robbie clone. What’s meant by this is merely that, now the cuffs of the “boy band” bracket are off, what we have instead, is a bruiser with velvet gloves. There’s more upfront emotional honesty on this album than might be found on albums by artists a dozen times more credible than Fightstar. This is because, rather than affecting a sheen of misery, or donning some Hendrix-isms, the band just act like themselves. There’s not a note feels forced. It seems and sounds like a very organic kind of album, the kind which (one imagines) has its origins in someone coming in at the start with a riff, someone else with a lyric, etc., rather than one which has been made to some kind of marketing agenda. In fact, it sounds like it’s come from a different era entirely – the pre-punk 1970s, for example. Then was a period when supposed “boy bands” like The Beatles were splitting and spreading their still-young creative wings. Exactly what’s happening here. If there is any fault to be found in this album, it’s that, in places, it just tries too damned hard. Some bits are just a wee bit too “dirty.” Guitars are amped up so much, it makes one’s ears bleed. And Charlie must’ve gone over his throat with sandpaper. These boys aren’t out to be your friends, they’re here to take you on a wild ride, stopping at oblivion, excess, upsurge and redemption. The only pedal on the floor is the accelerator. So come on, imagine a world where Busted never existed.
