The Boyfriends – The Boyfriends LP Review

A certain Mr Steven Patrick Morrissey hand picked the The Boyfriends to provide the support on his UK tour. From the opening bars on their eponymously titled debut LP is easy to hear why. Martin Wallace’s croon bears a striking resemblance to the bard of Manchester’s own weary tones. The band punch their instruments with the passion that fired The Smiths.

There is a crackle, a swoon, a thump that rushes out of your speakers in vaguely 1980′s indie style. But are the Boyfriends more than a bunch of Handsome Devils, a gang of Charming Men? Does the music oscillate wildly or is it a pale imitation or a well thumbed record collection? Are The Boyfriends a miserable lie?

Well, strike me down with a feather, hang out the bunting and turn off your phone. This is something to treasure. Despite my huge reservations and my obsession with The Smiths, I am smitten with this record. There is more than enough invention, wit, wisdom and zeal here to mark the Boyfriends out as something special – a rare band, even. Wallace’s words are by turns heartfelt, funny, clever and well observed.

Thankfully all the quick word play is not lost in a stew of Albion skiffle. That fragile indie sound that has ruled the roost since Pete and Carl split is nowhere to be seen. The lyrics soar across the ominous mechanical throb generated by the band. If you were looking to The Smiths for reference then this would be them in their post The Queen Is Dead glory. This is not meek or delicate – the guitars lash like Bernard Butler jamming with The Who.

The opening Brave Little Soldiers is a bold statement of intent. A set of chords ripped through with glorious abandonment, the rhythm snarls with dark intent. The lyric a call to arms, a plea to keep your dignity and your individuality in face of indifference. The guitar riff is as catchy as a common cold. British Summer Time opens on a reverb heavy riff that builds slowly to its Graham Coxon style fractured melody.

When Martin Wallace sings “It is far too a nice day to be in playing scrabble, let’s slap on some factor 15 on and join the half naked rabble…” I can’t suppress a smile. The picture he paints of London hanging out in the summer time would make Ray Davies proud. It could be a Blur classic apart from the fact that Wallace displays empathy for his subject matter and not misplaced scorn. The military drum rolls match the mood delightfully.

The bassline and toms that open Adult Acne provide Richard Adderley the space to show off his chops. From atonal sparks, via wah wah funk to the chiming chorus, the playing is a master class in precision; mind your backs for a new guitar hero. Adderley further enhances his reputation with the dissolving chords that open I Love You. An aching plea, a declaration of love that pricks the skin like a tattoo needle, leaving an impression long after the sensation has faded. The guitars are like whiplash on the bullet train. There is Always Hope closes the LP in a slowly drifting maze of melody and noise. Eight minutes of melancholy bliss.

Everything here is disciplined and succinct, nothing over stays its welcome, the whole collection hums with purpose. The only thing that stops me declaring it a stone cold classic is a certain lack of variation. It’s nick picking really. This is music of passion and soul. If you miss this you’re a fool.

Tony Heywood 

Original review first published here - http://www.musicomh.com/reviews/albums/the-boyfriends-the-boyfriends

The Bands Myspace Page -  https://myspace.com/myboyfriendsback

Nada Surf - The Stars Are Indifferent To Astronomy

On their 6th album Nada Surf aim to capture the raw energy of their live shows. This subtle shift in recording dynamic has allowed the band to freshen up their sound. The guitars marry chiming guitar riffs with sweet distortion, the rhythm section bounces like a honeymoon couple on their wedding night. The slashed guitars and crashing drums rolls of No Snow on The Mountain aptly demonstrate the success of this new approach. A tumbling chord sequence and a bright riff sparkle on Teenage Dreams.

Matthew Caws lyrics are just the right side of twee and if they do occasional slip into cliché the sliver plated melodies more than compensate. When I Was Young is built around a beautifully light weight acoustic guitar refrain like dust dancing in sunlight the swirling electric guitars that arrive half way through add a dazzling counterpoint. Still mourning the demise of R.E.M.? Then get you fix of top draw college rock here.

Tony Heywood (c)

Review first published in Electric Ghost Magazine

Nada Surf Website

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Dreamt for Light Years in the Belly of a Mountain - Sparklehorse

Dreamt for Light Years in the Belly of a Mountain - Sparklehorse

Capitol

Five years on from the last Sparklehorse record Mark Linkous has surfaced again. He is back with his static clouds of melody and warped country noir. If a week is a long time in politics then five years is close to a lifetime in music. Thankfully Dreamt for Light Years in the Belly of a Mountain is as welcome as January’s pay cheque.

Linkous has spent a large part of those missing years in combat with his demons. They were dark days for him. Despite or maybe because of this there is a gentle optimism that floats just beneath the surface of the songs. From the spectral 3am whisper of Return to Me to the wasp’s nest on a roller coaster of Ghost In The Sky the lyrics and music continually take surprising and uplifting turns.

The opening Don’t Take My Sunshine Away is The Beatles refracted through the shattered shell of a Cadillac on the highway to Twin Peaks. Its lush vocal harmonies and melody which are as big and bright as a harvest moon lost all wrapped up in a warm static haze. It’s the kind of cosmic American music that Gram Parsons was dreaming of. If Gram had lived in New York and joined The Velvet Underground that is.

Shade and Honey is the perfect metaphor for Linkous’ songs. Dark lyrics wrapped inside sugar-coated melodies. Melodies that are then dragged drunk and crazy through a junk yard at midnight. The chugging guitar riff opens into a sly and upbeat chorus.

The title track closes the LP in 10 minutes of instrumental melancholic delight. The guitar chords float across a piano part that is barely there, it seems to repeat itself like an eerie dream. It drifts off into silence before gently returning. Welcome back, Mr Linkous. Please don’t stay away as long next time, we’ve missed you.

Tony Heywood (c)