It might be another example of the sense of humour of Frances McKee and Eugene Kelly, but the explosion of noise that opens this, the first release in 20-odd years from “Kurt Cobain’s favourite band” (© all media) is one to rival Nirvana themselves – sporting a grungy hook and truly rocking out, it is rather unlike the twee Vaselines of yore.
This impression is borne out, pretty much, on the 11 tracks that follow, as the band revert to type. Well, in a sense. The title track is next up and is a jangly effort built around the “feels so good it must be bad for me” refrain. It’s pure pop, yes, but that’s no bad thing, and it shows that the band haven’t forgotten how to write a song.
Sex and religion were, pretty much, the band’s staple subjects in their heyday, and ‘The Devil’s Inside Me’ follows. It doesn’t quite answer any theological questions, being as it is a chorus built around a spooky guitar riff, but with the vocals of McKee and Kelly blending rather beautifully, any big answers can wait.
And this is the pattern for the entire album – it’s a much beefier sound than the one that inspired Cobain and pals to take on their three tunes, and indeed replace their slightly reticent sound with something a bit more ‘street’. The enlistment, bizarrely, of members of Belle and Sebastian as the backing band has led to this more rock’n’roll feel, probably due to Stevie Jackson’s liking for a bit of guitar hero posturing his day job doesn’t always allow for.
Interestingly, the band have hooked up with Jamie Watson to produce the album, – Watson was also responsible or the ‘non-Nirvana’ tunes way back when, Stephen Pastel having applied a recognisably light touch to those future grunge anthems. This time, it’s a bit more Phil Spector than Butch Vig, with a real echoey drum-heavy feel to many of the tracks that follow. The wall of sound, the boy-girl vocals, the buzzsaw guitars, and, simply, the ear for a stonking good tune, all somehow hark back to the band’s original incarnation, despite sounding very, well, now.
As if to confirm this, they throw in ‘I Hate The 80s’ which despite the lyric “it wasn’t all Duran Duran” (like that’s a bad thing?) is perhaps as close as we get to a ‘personal’ lyric – “where did that girl go? / what that boy know?”… “didn’t notice we got screwed”… the 80s were shit”.
Of course, it may all be a bit of fun – but if the duo are still bitter, then given the quality of this album, they’re certainly making up for lost time.
