[23 September 2007 - RESCUED FROM MY MAC!]
In a word: disappointing. This band seem to have lost everything that was good about Silent Alarm in creating this new record. Gone are the shocks of spiky guitar and instantly singable melodies, as are the infectious beats of tracks such as Helicopter and So Here We Are. The fresh sound of the first record has been replaced with a turgid guitar-driven texture which now dominates the mixes instead of punctuating them, and the drummer has been pushed back in favour of further homogenising the sound.
Moreover, Kele's lyrics are weak throughout: gone is the youthful pugnacity and feeling of inner-city torment. It's been replaced with a kind of watered-down plaintive oh-it's-so-annoying-living-in-London pathos that alienates the listener far more frequently than it inspires. Lyrics such as "waiting for the seven eighteen... The Northern line is the loudest" really shouldn't pass any writer's quality controls. These are the words of someone whose newfound comfortable existence has apparently robbed him of all the factors which inspired him to write in the first place.
It's a real shame to be so critical of this record as I had such high expectations for this band. I remember reading something about how the band were looking forward to experimenting with drum machines and progressing their sound for the second record, and I saw a bright future for these boys. Well, there are little bits of inspiration on this record - little bits of evidence of the band trying to progress their art. In particular, in the middle of the album you get a little reprieve from the sluggish vanilla rock: On is rescued by a certain creative alacrity, and alone was enough to warrant returning to this record for the repeat listens.
But it's not enough. Overall, you can't help feeling as though the band who've gone from "fresh" to "fresh out of ideas". This is a band who seemingly have nothing to say, lyrically or musically - they're going through the motions here, as though it hasn't been a difficult process at all. You also get the feeling that if they were to have worked with a producer slightly less prescriptive than Snow Patrol's "Jacknife" Lee, they would perhaps have prevented their slide into the very New British Rock Band-like sonic anonymity which they seemingly seek to rail against.
This is not the album you should have made, boys. Better luck next time.
