Album reviews, plus Jim Gilchrist on Aidan O’rourke
Bassist Nicky Wire’s lyrics are the most intriguing aspect of an otherwise easy to anticipate barrage of pop rock
The notion of Manic Street
Preachers as one of our most enduring rock institutions would have seemed laughable 25 years ago but the Welsh trio have trucked on indomitably to this, their 13th album, taking time out along the way for nostalgia tours of their two contrasting classic albums – the dark, twisted masterpiece The
Holy Bible and glorious commercial breakthrough Everything Must Go. So not quite destroying rock’n’roll, as pledged in 1991 debut single Motown
Junk.
The alternative message is, on one level, clear. Resistance Is Futile, they pledge, so hunker down for the usual barrage of brawny mainstream pop rockers smothered in swooping strings and topped with the nonetoo-subtle bellowing of James Dean Bradfield. International Blue, to take just one example, opens with a big, dumb, melodic riff which Bradfield dashes off without a second thought, while the furious drumming on
Broken Algorithms and the joyous
brio of the intro of Song For The
Sadness keep things buoyant. But if the music is entirely predictable, one can always rely on bassist Nicky Wire to come up with the intriguing lyrical goods. Dylan
and Caitlin is a sprightly duet with multi-instrumentalist The Anchoress about the stormy relationship of poet Dylan Thomas and his wife Caitlin, and there are shades of their brilliant 1996 single Kevin Carter in Vivian ,a paean to street photographer Vivian Maier who achieve posthumous acclaim when her work was published online a decade ago.
Wire then goes on to provide his own urban portrait on Liverpool
Revisited and deliver his by now traditional shaky lead vocal on a selected track – in this case Brexit ballad The Left Behind.
Wire is not the only writer proclaiming “the idea of art as a hiding place and a weapon” in these tortuous times. The skilled tragicomedic commentator Mark “E” Everett is being a little disingenuous in shrugging off the latest Eels album with the words “the world is a mess, this is just music”.
Like many of his fellow artists – Paloma Faith, Frank Turner and Courtney Marie Andrews for starters – Everett has responded to feeling powerless in the face of international developments by promoting individual acts of kindness as a way forward. “I had a premonition that we’re gonna get by,” he sings on this predominantly wistful, tender album infused with simple sagacity and delicate strings.
London-based five-piece Firestations take a similar approach on their second album of philosophical dream pop, which contrasts soothing sounds with unsettled lyrics. The elegant harmonic flow of
Pyramid Scheme is, ironically, about disharmony and inequality, the linear vocal melody of Blue Marble, about taking a long distance perspective on the Earth, hardly varies beyond a few notes to hypnotic effect and there is only the slightest hint of twanging dischord on Lightning Strike, which comes at the rise of the right from an elemental angle.
Spanish quartet Hinds just wanna have fun, channelling the freewheeling spirit of punk bands The Raincoats and The Slits in a more accessible indie pop direction. When they break out the fuzzed-up keening riffola of Finally Floating, you can hear why Strokes producer Gordon Raphael wanted to work with them. There’s a carefree energy to their sound, fuelled by the loose interplay between co-vocalists Carlotta Cosials (who habitually sounds like she’s standing too close to the mic) and Ana Perrotte, who bring the quirky perspective from singing in a second language to the likes of I Feel Cold But
I Feel More.
There’ s a care free energy to their sound, fuelled by the inter play between co-vocalists Carlotta Cosials and Ana Perrotte