When Do We Start Fighting...

There's plenty of American pop-punk meshed into this London-based four-piece's rather commercial take on alt-rock. Through most of the first half of the full-length -- the half where the band is obviously reaching for something that will turn the ear of a friendly radio programmer -- you will hear a ton of Sonic Youth-esque guitars and drums mixed with the U.K.'s usual derivative take (Blur, Oasis, Bush) on American '90s post-grunge-era college bands. It's not the most creative-sounding CD you've ever heard, but U.S. radio could do a lot worse than this rather amped-up, safe, angst pop.

"Pleasurehead" is pure commercial alt-rock that starts off with "Bull in the Heather" trap drumming before David Line's blue-sky vocals take us back to a comfortable mid-'90s soft-alt era. The follow-up, "Cloaking," rips some guitar lines right off Goo and then smoothers it in Bush.

When they turn down the amps and adopt a more-simple, soothing approach, they comfortably crawl into a completely different rock cliché that's more relaxed and less forced. Slackers like "What May be the Oldest," and "Similar Assassins" sound like early Judybats meet latter-day Eleventh Dream Day or even The Connells. At least they don't try to sound like Radiohead.

You have to wait until the end for glimpses of creativity amid the slick alt-rock production. The CD's last four tracks blow away everything else on the album. Line, accompanied only by an acoustic guitar, sings "Desert Stretched Before the Sun" like he was auditioning for Badly Drawn Boy or The Reindeer Section. On "In This Light Will You Fight Me," Line and drummer Caroline Banks harmonize on a dark-room haunter that let's go into an electric-guitar-fueled mantra, like some sort of weird, half-speed version of Led Zeppelin's "Achille's Last Stand." The slightly off-kilter but beautiful closer (there's also a rather forgettable "hidden track" that isn't worth waiting through the black spot) features Scott McCloud (Girls Against Boys, New Wet Kojak) whispering words beneath and around the melody that repeats a closing line "He collects himself / Because everything is dead." I would much rather hear a full hour of this ingenious weirdness than the acceptable-though-vanilla attempts at pleasing American alt radio that takes up the first half of the CD.

back to   Posted May 11, 2002. Copyright © 2002 Tim McMahan. All rights reserved.