Always touched by their presence
Scottish indie stalwarts’ reassuring return after six years. By Victoria Segal.
THE PROMISE of a gentler, kinder politics appears to be in constant dispiriting retreat, but with the return of Teenage Fanclub, there is at least still hope for a gentler, kinder songwriting. It’s not just the band’s deeply embedded democratic principles – once again, their tenth album contains three songwriters, three singers, 12 tracks, a scrupulous four songs each – but a remarkable warmth and empathy. They unhitch the word ‘decent’ from the politician’s shifty ‘hardworking’ lexicon and reattach it to music that brims with a staunchly good-hearted, quietly emotional desire to communicate something true. It’s no shock that there are no real shocks with Here, their first record since 2010’s Shadows. They have never really been the band to turn to for wild paradigm-smashing reinventions (even decamping to Chicago to work with John McEntire on 2005’s Man-Made resulted in a record that sounded an awful lot like Teenage Fanclub). In their own way, however, they are capable of transformation. On paper, for example, Raymond McGinley’s Hold On could look like classic rock Patience Strong – “Hold on to your life, to your dreams/Don’t get lost in their schemes” – but in person, it becomes a fierce expression of survival in the face of bleakness, a hard-fought gesture of endurance and hope. “I don’t hear much fanfare for the common man these days,” sings McGinley, but here is a direct salute. They also do their bit to reclaim the word ‘organic’ from its suggestions of mud and hessian and piety, returning it to something elegantly flowing. Recorded in Provence, Glasgow and Hamburg by men who are separated by geographical distance and sometimes wrapped up in side projects (Gerard Love’s excellent Lightships, Norman Blake’s The New Mendicants with Joe Pernice), these songs maintain a real sense of togetherness. Each track gives way to the next with a natural ease, so you can almost feel stage positions being swapped, people moving in and out of each other’s path. It feels live, and very much alive. “Thinking about it now,” Blake has said, contemplating the long gap between records, “we really should get together a bit more often.” That sounds like a good plan for the future, considering the strengths of Here (even the title sounds profoundly reassuring). There is a sense of bright defiance in this music, nearly every song sounding as if it might be on the verge of a swoon or collapse, but keeping itself together all the same – proof of a heartfelt refusal to give in to blankness or numbness no matter how bad, difficult or grown-up things might get. These are songs about wanting the best for people, such as The Darkest Part Of The Night, another steady hand offered to somebody in decline. “You’ve been living in a bad dream, baby,” sings Blake, over a restorative country jangle, strong and teasweet, while the trembling Connected To Light throws a clutch of cosmic good wishes into the void: “I hope I never see you disappear into shadows/Into night.” There’s more darkness on With You as well, another dreamy but resonant pledge to keep by someone’s side, stay strong, stand firm against all malign forces. If that grim threat of encroaching night, a blackness that is always to be kept at bay, ensures Here never becomes too cosy, there are also plenty of sparkling textural buzzes and blips to ensure that Teenage Fanclub’s traditional ‘consistency’ remains impressive rather than soporific. McGinley’s disembodied I Was Beautiful When I Was Alive floats off in trans-European haze, while in high contrast, The First Sight breaks out a glimmer of Latinate brass. Meanwhile, Love’s skittish It’s A Sign (perhaps a little nod to the casual scepticism of Bandwagonesque’s Star Sign), pulls harmonic hair-pin turns with glorious confidence and knowing mastery. After 26 years of being a band, Teenage Fanclub’s existence suggests that although a continuous stream of novelty might be a fine distraction from the passing of time, there are other deeply rewarding ways to engage with life. “It feels good with you next to me,” sings Blake on I’m In Love. “That’s enough, that’s enough.”